Reunions
by Foenixfyre
Summary: The Mice are called away to help in the battle on Mars, leaving Charlie behind them. 6 years later, they return to a war-torn Earth, to find that Charlie has some surprises and secrets of her own. ChxT
1. Prologue

Well, this is the first BMFM fic I've ever written, and I haven't watched the show in a few years, so be kind.  By the way, I couldn't think of a decent title for this thing.  Any suggestions?  Enjoy!  ~Foenixfyre

Prologue:

            Charlene Davidson, better known as Charlie, sat on the roof of the Last Chance Garage and stared out over the Chicago skyline.  The night was beautiful, and a balmy breeze gently ruffled her mane of auburn hair, but she wasn't smiling.

            _I can't believe that they're leaving tomorrow.  It's not fair.  Yeah, I can see how they'd be needed back on Mars, but what about Earth?  What about me?_

            The mice had received a message from Stoker early that morning.  The High Command of the Resistance had issued a recall of all Freedom Fighters.  They were planning a big push that might end the war on Mars, and the Bikers were desperately needed.  A ship would be arriving the next day to take them home.

            Charlie's heart was breaking.

            A tear slid down her cheek, and she sniffled, raising her arm to wipe the tear away on her sleeve.  But another one followed, and then another, until there were too many to stop.  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

            "What's wrong, Charlie-girl?"

            His voice jerked her spine straight, and she frantically tried to stem the whimpers that fought in her throat.  There was no way she'd let him see her crying.  No way she'd let him know how much his leaving was tearing her heart in two.  "Nothing, Throttle.  Just some dust in my eye."  She dredged up a weak smile, and turned around to face him.  "Shouldn't you be packing?  Or do you plan to leave everything behind when you go?"  

_Like you're leaving me?_

Throttle shrugged and grinned at her, the same cocky smile that had stolen her heart.  "I'm all packed up.  An' don't try to change the subject.  A little dust doesn't make you cry like you've lost your best friend."  He sat next to her and bumped her shoulder.  "So, gonna tell me what's buggin' you?"

Charlie turned her head away to stare back at the sky.  "I'll miss you guys when you leave.  You've all been such a big part of my life these past three years, and now you're leaving, just like that.  Kinda hurts inside, ya know?"

"We'll never forget you, Charlie-girl.  Once we've got this thing beat, we'll come back to visit.  You know that."

Despair made her voice sharp.  "Are you sure Carbine will let you?  She's never been keen on your being here in the first place.  Probably won't like your coming back."

Throttle's voice was quiet.  "Carbine may be my girl, but she doesn't run my life.  I don't forget my friends, Charlene."

His use of her full name almost made her break down again.  He only used it in the most serious of moments.  "I know that," she whispered.  "It still hurts."  She twisted around to look at him, and found herself staring into two garnet eyes.  Her breath caught.

"Charlie-girl, I…"  Whatever Throttle wanted to say became trapped in his throat; she could see him trying to fight the words out of his mouth.

She wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly she was wrapped in his strong arms, lips pressed against his.  His mobile tongue tickled the corners of her mouth, and she opened her lips just enough for it to slip inside.  Who could have known that one simple kiss could be so mind-blowing?  Who would have guessed that this could feel so right?

One hand gently, desperately, grasped the side and back of her head, forbidding escape.  The other grappled with the hem of her shirt, pulling it from her waistband and sliding up her back.  She fought to help him, lifting her arms so that he could slip it over her head.  She was fighting with the neck, having failed to unbutton any buttons, when-

"Hey, Bro!  You up there?!"

Vinnie's voice was like a douse of cold water.  They froze, and stared at each other.  Charlie could feel her face flush with shame and embarrassment.

"Throttle?  Dude, what's up?"

An unidentifiable gleam in his eyes, Throttle stepped carefully away from her.  "Yeah, I'm up here.  Charlie-girl and I were just talkin'."

"Modo's got the dogs out, and they need to get cooked!  Charlie, sweetheart, I'm hungry!"

She turned away and struggled to get her shirt back on.  Somehow, she managed to sound normal as she called down.  "I'll be there in a sec, Vinnie.  Keep your shirt on!"  _Oops, bad choice of words._

"Charlie…"

She took a breath and faced Throttle.  "I'm sorry.  I don't know what came over me.  It's just that… Never mind.  Let's forget about it, okay?"

He studied her carefully, and she felt as though he was trying to peer directly into her soul.  "You and I both know it's not that easy, Charlie-girl.  This can't happen between us, no matter how much we might want it."  

"I know that," she whispered.  "You've got Carbine waiting for you, and even if she wasn't in the picture, we'd never make it work.  Too many differences."  She clutched her arms around herself and tried to stop her body from trembling.  "But it doesn't make it any easier."

"I'm sorry, Charlie-girl."

She nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.  "Tell Vinnie I'm be down in a bit, okay?  I… just need a few minutes to myself."

"All right."

Charlie could hear as he climbed down the ladder and joined his bros.  Their rough, masculine voices rose in excitement as they discussed the next day's trip.  She raised her eyes to the sky, and let one last tear fall from her green eyes.  "It doesn't make it any easier."

*            *            *

The ship that flew in the next day used a cloaking devise to hide itself from the eyes of humans, and landed in an empty field outside the city.  Charlie waited with Vinnie, Modo and Throttle to say her goodbyes.  The door opened, and a ramp rolled out, stopping just short of the waiting bikes.  She turned to the three bros with a half-hearted grin on her face.  "Well, I guess this is it.  Go knock 'em dead, guys."

Modo nodded silently and gave her a small hug.  "We'll miss ya, Charlie-ma'am."  

"I'll miss you too; you know that."  She managed a better smile, and returned the hug with interest.  "You're always welcome at the garage."  With that, he walked up the ramp, followed closely by his bike.

Throttle glanced at her, discomfort evident in his eyes.  "Bye, Charlie.  Good luck."  She nodded, unable to speak, and he followed his bro.

She turned to see Vinnie staring at her, questions in his eyes.  "Kick some ass, Vinnie."

He swung her up in a powerful embrace, and asked quietly, "You're not gonna tell me what that was all about, are you?"

She shook her head.  "No."

He let out a sigh.  "Didn't think so.  You sure you don't want to come with us?  I'd be willin' to give up my bachelor ways for you, Beautiful."

His words got a laugh.  "What, and deny the women of the universe your studly body?  That would be an absolute crime."  They smiled at each other, and then Vinnie's face grew serious.

"He really cares about you, ya know.  Carbine's, well…"

Charlie shook her head again.  "It couldn't work.  Just make sure he's happy, okay?"  He nodded, and then jumped on his racer.  He popped a wheelie before gunning up the ramp to join the others inside.  Charlie could hear raised voices yelling at him for the stunt.  The ramp rolled up, and the door slid closed, and the ship took off, resuming its cloak.  She continued waving until long after she thought it would be out of sight.

*            *            *


	2. Return

Chapter One

6 Years later… 

Throttle stared out of the view screen as Earth grew closer.  Thoughts of the human woman he hadn't seen for years flew through his mind.  They hadn't heard from her since they'd left.

Without the Biker Mice to keep him in check, Limburger and his goons had run rampant in Chicago.  More and more Plutarkians had gone to Earth as the battle for Mars grew better and better for the Martians.  About a year after the Biker Mice left, open war broke out, and their enemies had foregone any human disguises and began to really concentrate on taking Earth.  No one was really sure what started it all, but a human group of Freedom Fighters had quickly emerged to fight them off, and had held their own for four years.  At that time, the Martians finally beat the Plutarkians off of their planet, and they began sending Freedom Fighters to Earth to help in the war.  A year later, it was finally over.  The Plutarkians had been well and truly defeated.

At long last, the Biker Mice were returned to Earth.

A hand descended upon his shoulder, and Throttle looked up to see Modo.  "How's it hanging, Bro?  Happy to be heading back?"

He looked back out at the verdant planet they were quickly approaching.  "Do you think she's all right?  She could have contacted us.  The Freedom Fighters provided working transmitters."

Modo joined him in watching Earth.  "I wish I could tell you, Bro.  I'm bettin' Charlie-girl's been pretty heavily involved with the Earth resistance.  It could be that she's simply been too busy.  I've been watchin' the reports, and Earth's had as a bad a time as Mars did.  It's a miracle that they managed to beat the fish-faces so quickly."

"Yeah," Throttle agreed.  He breathed a heavy sigh.  "I guess we'll see."

It only took about an hour to arrive, and the three jumped on the bikes and headed for the Garage.  When they arrived, their jaws dropped.

"Man, oh man," Vinnie whistled.  "Would ya lookit that."

The Last Chance Garage was still standing.  In fact, it had been added to and reinforced, the dungy brick exterior now replaced with a titanium alloy the Bikers recognized from their own base.  The place looked busy, with humans and Mice running in and out.  Flyers perched on the roof, ready to take off at any moment.

Modo turned to look at Throttle, whose jaw hung to his chest.  "See, Bro?  She's been busy."

Throttle nodded.  "Let's go see Charlie, guys."

They rolled into the garage, which was packed with bikes and other vehicles under various stages of repair.  A desk stood over to one side, and they headed toward it.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!"  The familiar voice brought the Mice to a stop, and they stared at the human, if that's what he still was, who hurried toward them.

"Jack?" Throttle choked out.

Jack McCyber laughed as he neared them.  "Surprised you, didn't I?  Guess this getup would surprise anyone."  He grinned and tapped the side of his head.  Instead of a flesh and skin face, his head was completely metal.  Cybernetic eyes stared out of their sockets, and his neck was a mass of wires.

"What happened, Jack?"  Modo asked.

Jack leaned up against the open hood of a racer.  "Got caught in a blast and fried my entire head.  If not for your Martian techs and their replacement bits, I wouldn't be here today.  Now, I really am a McCyber, huh?"  He laughed again.  "Don't lock so stunned, fellas.  I'm fine."  He reached out and grabbed Throttle's arm.  "It's good to see you, guys.  We'll have to do some catching up."  He cocked his head and grinned at the still-bewildered trio.  "But right now, I'm guessing there's someone else you'd like to see?"

Vinnie and Modo both glanced at Throttle as their leader's head jerked up.  "Then Charlie's okay?"

"Boys, she's better then okay.  Hey, Mitch!"  Jack gestured at a teenager who was bending over the handlebars of a bike.  "Take the Biker Mice to see the Commander, would you?"

"Commander?!"  The Mice cried as one.

"Our Charlie's made quite a name for herself.  But I guess you'll just have to ask her all about it."  He clapped Mitch on the shoulder when the teen hurried over.  "See you later."  He swaggered off, leaving behind him three speechless Mice.

"If you'll come this way, sirs.  Commander Davidson's office is upstairs."  The kid had a bad case of acne, and a large Adam's apple.  The reverence with which he said Charlie's name suggested a huge case of hero worship.  "Are you really the Biker Mice that the Commander knew before the war?"

"You bet'cha, Mitch."  Vinnie grinned down at the kid.  "Vincent Van Wham at your service.  These two blockheads are Modo and Throttle."

"Blockheads, huh?  I'll show you a blockhead," Modo muttered as they climbed the old ladder up through the familiar trap door.  Throttle grinned weakly, but his thoughts were on the woman they were going to see.

"Commander, ma'am?  There's someone here to see you."  Mitch's voice broke, and he flushed.

"Damn it, what is it now?  I'm never gonna finish this friggin' paperwork."  The growl that came through the door made their antennae straighten in surprise.  That was Charlie?  Her voice was harder then they remembered, and colder.  It was her voice, all right, but it didn't sound like the cheerful woman they'd left six years before.

Vinnie opened the door and poked his head in.  "Well, if paperwork is more important then old friends, I guess we could just head back to Mars…"

The auburn-haired woman at the desk raised her head and stared with familiar green eyes.  "Vinnie?"  The color drained from her face.  "What are you doing here?"

This wasn't exactly the reception they'd expected.  Vinnie opened the door wider so that the other two Mice were visible  "Aren't you glad to see us, Charlie-ma'am?" Modo asked.  Throttle couldn't seem to open his mouth.  Mitch, he noticed, had quickly left them alone.

Charlie stared for another moment, then her eyes cleared and she stood up.  "Of course!  I'm sorry; you just really surprised me.  Get in here and give me a hug!  How are you?"  

"Oh, same-old, same-old.  Happy to be back on Earth.  But look at you!  Commander?"  Vinnie whistled again as he eyeballed her outfit.  Charlie's hair was pulled back into a bun, giving her a rather authoritarian look.  A tight lavender top was tucked into leather jeans, and a leather jacket that bore a heavy resemblance to the Martian Freedom Fighters' uniforms completed the ensemble.  She looked tough.

Charlie shrugged.  "When the fish-faces finally decided to attack, they took out the military first.  Seeing as I knew more about the enemy then anyone else, I pulled together the first resistance group.  It grew, and was joined by other groups, until I found myself heading this entire nightmare."

"Good job, Charlie-ma'am," Modo said.  She flushed, and graced him with a smile filled with quiet pride in her fighters.

Then Vinnie grinned.  "But you haven't said hello to Throttle!  Bet you're glad to see him."  He grabbed Throttle and shoved him toward Charlie.

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Hello, Throttle.  It's good to see you," she said quietly.

Throttle nodded.  His eyes took in the shadows under her eyes, the overall gauntness of her frame.  The war, he realized, had not been kind to Charlie.

"Umm, look, I hate to do this to you, but I need to finish this paperwork.  The scoreboard's still standing, and most of your stuff should still be there.  We were using it to hide refugees for a while.  Why don't you drop anything you brought over there, and make yourselves comfortable?  Head back over here in an hour or so, and we'll find some grub."  With that, Charlie sat down behind the desk and looked down at the papers she had dropped.  It was a friendly, but very clear, dismissal.

Modo and Vinnie glanced over at Throttle.  He nodded toward the door, and they left.  The room was quiet but for the scratching of Charlie's pen.  Throttle walked over and stood in front of the desk, but she didn't look up.  "Charlie-girl," he began.

"Look, Throttle, like I said, I'm sorry, but I'm really busy right now.  Just give me an hour."  She shoved away from the massive desk and stalked over to stuff some papers into a file cabinet.  Throttle came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  Beneath the jacket, he could feel her shoulder bones and wondered just how much weight she'd lost.  She froze, and refused to turn and face him.

"I missed you, Charlene."

"How's Carbine, Throttle?"  Her voice was sharp.

Throttle sighed.  He had known it wasn't going to be easy, but… "She was fine, last I heard.  'Bout three years ago, we decided to stop lyin' to each other, and to ourselves.  Charlie, we broke up.  I realized that my heart just wasn't with her anymore.  It's-"

Now Charlie swung around.  "Don't!"  She pushed by him and crossed behind the desk, using the large piece of furniture as a barrier between the two of them.  "Just don't, okay?  I can't do this right now."  She stared at him through haunted eyes.

"Charlie-"

"Please leave, Throttle!"  Her voice wasn't that of an old friend, but of a commander barking out an order.

Throttle stepped toward her, reaching out, then stopped, and let his hand fall back by his side.  "Fine."  His voice was quiet, but it held every bit as much power as hers.  "I'll leave now, but we're gonna talk about this later, Charlene."  With that, he turned and left, closing the door softly after him.

Behind the door, Charlie dropped her head into her hands and fought off the tears burning her eyes.

*            *            *

It didn't take long for Vinnie and Modo to set up what they'd brought with them, and they opened a few root beers to pass the time.

"Cheese, what happened to Charlie?"  Vinnie rocked back in his chair.  "If I didn't know better, I'd think she was kinda unhappy to see us!  Even me, the greatest mammajammer in the universe!"

As he spoke, Throttle slammed in through the door.  He took one agonized, furious look at the two Mice sitting at the table, then stalked across the room and entered his old room, smashing the door closed behind him.  Modo groaned and covered his eyes.  "Nice one, lamebrain.  It's bad enough that he's been tearin' his fur out over her, but now you gotta rub it in."

"How the hell was I supposed ta know he'd walk in just then?  Man, Fearless Leader's got it bad, huh?  Ya think I should go talk to him?  Like apologize or somethin'?"

"I dunno, little bro.  Somethin' tells me that this is one Throttle's gonna have to work out on his own."

A crash rang out from the bedroom, and they winced.  "I just hope he doesn't work it out on us," Vinnie muttered.  "And Charlie ain't gonna pay to fix the walls anymore."

When the sounds of destruction, accompanied by growls of anger, continued from the other room, Modo thumped his half-empty bottle down on the table and shoved back his chair.  "Bro's gonna hurt himself."  He headed toward the bedroom, stopping only to say to Vinnie when he jumped up, "Do him a favor, and just butt out right now.  We both know ya love 'im, and he knows it too, but your type'a sympathy isn't gonna help."  With that, he visibly braced himself, and opened the door.

A lamp and two pulverized metal crates lay inside the door where they'd been thrown.  Throttle sat on the bed, head in his hands.  As Modo entered, he growled, "Go away.  I don't wanna talk about it."

"Don't ya mean 'about her'?"  Modo sat down next to his bro and laid a hand on his back.  "Give her a little time.  It's been six years after all.  I'm sure Charlie-girl will come around once ya explain about you and Carbine goin' your own separate ways."

"I did!"  Throttle raised his head, and the look of despair in his eyes made Modo's widen.  "I told her, and tried to ask for just a chance, and she threw me out!"

Modo shook his head.  "I guess I don't know what to tell you, Bro.  But look at it from her point of view.  Ya tell her it won't work –and don't hit me for sayin' it when ya both agreed- and fly off home.  Then ya show up six years later an' tell Charlie-girl it's her ya love.  I can't blame her for bein' kinda standoffish."  

Throttle groaned.  "My head hurts."  

Modo clapped him on the shoulder.  "It'll work out.  Just give her some time."

"I hope you're right."

*            *            *


	3. Surprises

Chapter Two

The Garage was no quieter when they drove back up.  There weren't as many Fighters running in and out, but mechanics were taking advantage of the evening's lull to work on various projects.  The familiar whine of drills and the smell of oil felt like home.

"AOOOOWW!  C'mon, Charlie, sweetheart!  I'm hungry!"  Vinnie howled up through the trap door.  Modo looked up at the ceiling and shook his head, and Throttle simply sighed.  The assorted mechanics, techs and fighters stared in awe and near horror at the white Mouse.  Was this unknown Martian actually yelling at the Commander in such a disrespectful manner?

Evidently so.  A moment later, Charlie poked her head down, a cheerful scowl on her face.  "Shut up, Mr. Mouth!  You trying to undo what small respect I've managed to drag out of these men and women?  I'm almost finished here!"  Shortly thereafter, her boots descended down the ladder, followed by shapely legs and a tight butt.  Throttle looked around and growled softly when he observed the number of eyes watching said butt with fascination.  A couple of guys noticed his glare and hurriedly looked elsewhere.

"So, where to, Charlie-ma'am?"  Modo asked.

Charlie grabbed a helmet from a nearby rack and jammed it on her head before replying.  "Well, Andy's place was demolished a few years ago.  Don't worry," she added quickly in response to their worried expressions.  "Andy's okay.  He decided to move back to his family in New York.  I thought we'd head over to the local Fighters' hangout.  The food's not bad, and they import a lot of stuff from Mars."

"Sounds good!"  Vinnie wrapped his tail around Charlie's waist and lifted her behind him.  She opened her mouth to protest, but he bellowed over her words.  "Let's Rock-" A loud honk interrupted the well-known cry as a riderless black and lavender bike sped out and slammed to a stop in front of Vinnie's racer.  "What the-?"

Charlie grinned as she tugged Vinnie's tail from around her and climbed off.  "Guys, I want you to meet Baby Doll.  I liberated her from the Plutarkians."  Her face fell a bit.  "It was too late to save her original rider, but we bonded."  She crossed to stroke a gloved hand down the bike's gleaming ebony crankcase.  "She's saved my life more times then I can count."

Modo elbowed Throttle, whose jaw was hanging slackly.  "Cheese, Charlie-ma'am.  I've never heard of a re-bonding like that, especially with a human.  You gonna give us the details?"

Charlie's face was blank as she climbed on and revved Baby Doll up.  "Maybe someday.  If you're lucky.  Okay, boys!  Throttle, you want to do the honors?"

He leapt onto his bike and carefully looked away from her.  "Let's Rock!"

"And Ride!"  They took off after the human woman.

*          *          *

The Warehouse was exactly that: an enormous warehouse converted into a bar, eatery, and pool hall.  The patrons were a good mix of humans, Mice, and other allies against the Plutarkians.  Charlie waved at the bouncer, an enormous individual with pebbly gray skin, as she escorted the trio through the door.  "I think you'll like the place," she said, leading them through the door.  As she passed the full tables, Throttle noticed that several people, human and alien alike, jumped up and saluted, or called out welcomes to the Commander, but no one greeted her as a comfortable old friend.  She smiled and returned the salutes and hails with good grace.

                "Commander!  It's good to see you."  The woman at the bar smiled in welcome and gestured toward a stool.  "Who are your buds?"

            "Gaia, meet the Biker Mice from Mars."  Charlie eased herself onto the stool and shrugged out of her jacket.  The evening air was a bit chilly, but the Warehouse was kept at a very comfortable temperature.  "This is the trio that crash-landed on Earth about nine years ago and started this whole affair.  They're here visiting on their down time."  Several ears perked up as nearby customers heard her words, and the Mice found themselves the object of many curious stares.  Vinnie grinned and waved.

            "Well, in that case, first drink's on the house.  What'll it be, fellas?  I think you'll find there's very little we don't have here.  The usual, Charlie?"

            Charlie nodded.  She didn't normally drink much alcohol beyond the occasional beer, but she held a fondness for Mike's Hard Lemonade.  Gaia popped the top off one and slid it her way, then looked at the Mice inquisitively.  

            "I'll have what she's havin'," Throttle mumbled.  He wanted a good stiff drink, but didn't think it would be wise to get wasted in such a public place. Besides, if Charlie-girl liked it, it couldn't be too bad.  Modo nodded in agreement, while Vinnie named a popular Martian beverage.

            Drinks in hand, the four found their way to an empty table and studied the menus anchored beneath the plexiglass tabletop.

            "You were right, Sweetheart.  This place is great!"  Vinnie slung an arm around Charlie's shoulders and hugged her.  Throttle, who sat across from them, frowned when he realized Charlie had stiffened, that same blank look from before falling over her features.  A moment later she blinked and smiled up at Vinnie, but Throttle glanced over at Modo from the corner of his eye.  The gray Mouse nodded slightly.  He'd noticed it too.

            Food was ordered, and they settled down to eat.  "Man, Beautiful."  Vinnie rolled his eyes over the pile of food that Charlie was steadily tucking away.  "Where's it all goin'?  Ya miss lunch or somethin'?"

            "And breakfast," she replied.  "We've been pretty busy with clean-up the past few days.  There are still a few renegade groups of Plutarkians tucked away around the city, and-" She was interrupted when a large explosion rocked the building.  Grimly, Charlie stood up and grabbed her jacket, pulling a neat little laser from the pocket.  "Did I mention the renegade Plutarkians?  I don't guess you'd mind helping us…"

            "Say no more, Charlie-girl."  Throttle his own gun from its holster as they joined the crowd of Freedom Fighters running outside.  "Ya know, there are better places to bomb then a building full of Fighters."

            "The fish-faces aren't really known for their brains."  Charlie whistled, and Baby Doll zoomed up, followed closely by the Mice's bikes.  "All right, people!"  She gunned the bike and took off.  "Let's Rock!"

            "And Ride!"  The battle cry was roared by over fifty mouths as they all headed toward further explosions.

            *          *          *

            It was short work to capture the small group of enemy aliens, and workers had already begun repairs to the damaged buildings when Charlie and the Mice drove up to the Garage.  "You still sleepin' here, Charlie-ma'am?"

            "Sure am."  Charlie placed her helmet back on the rack and shook out her hair, which had come loose from the tight bun at some point during the fighting.  "When they took it over and made it into the FF headquarters, I grabbed some of the rooms on the top floor for my own."  She sighed and ran her fingers through her auburn mane.  It had grown out to waist length, and fell in lush waves down her back.  Throttle caught himself staring and tore his eyes away.

            "I guess you can be allowed a few perks, after all," he joked for the first time since he'd seen her.

            Charlie looked at him for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  "Thanks for the help, guys.  I don't suppose you'd like to help out with clean-up while you're here?"

            Vinnie crowed in delight.  "And kick a few fish-faces?  You betcha!"

            She grinned, and then sighed.  "Well, I need to go in and write up a report for tonight's entertainment.  I don't mind much of this Commander stuff, but gods, I hate the paperwork!  Oh, well.  See you tomorrow, boys."  And with that, she climbed the ladder through the trap door and disappeared from sight.

                *              *              *

                Sorry this chapter was so short, but I promise to have the next out soon!  Remember, reviews are always appreciated.  I don't have a beta reader, so let me know if you catch any typos.  ~Foenixfyre


	4. Attack

Chapter Three

            Over the next week, the Mice spent their days assisting in rooting out the last few tiny units of Plutarkians.  The evenings were spent in the Warehouse with Charlie, trading battle stories and catching up on old friends.  It hadn't been hard to settle in; as opposed to the last time the Mice were on Earth, Martians were now seen as friends and allies.

            Charlie finished polishing away a scratch on Baby Doll's side and patted her.  "There you go, sweetie.  Good as new."  She looked over to the Mice, who were in the process of similar cleanup jobs.  The Garage was unusually empty; aside from Charlie and the trio, only a small group of Fighters was visible, sitting near the entrance.  "Guys, I'm going to take a little walk.  Need some fresh air."  Baby Doll rumbled and turned her handlebars toward her, and Charlie laughed.  "No offense, Baby, but I'm going to use my own two legs this time."  She grabbed her jacket and headed out the garage door.

"You want some company, Sweetheart?  Maybe it's just all the fish your people've been fightin', but this place reeks," Vinnie called, but she smiled and shook her head as she disappeared around the corner.

The group of Fighters left their spot outside and walked off, probably to find something more entertaining for their free time.

            Throttle suddenly found himself the object of very close scrutiny from his bros.  He ignored it, concentrating on his bike.

            Finally, several minutes later, the other two became tired of waiting.  "So, what's the score, Fearless Leader?" Vinnie quipped.

Throttle sighed loudly and threw the rag he'd been wiping his hands on against the wall.  "Throttle: zip, Charlie-girl: so far in the lead I'll never catch up."  He slumped down against his bike and looked bleakly up at the other two.  "I'm starting to think this is hopeless."

"Nah.  You just need a few tips on women.  And the Velocity Atrocity is just the one to help you."

            Modo elbowed Vinnie in the gut.  "For ten minutes, Bro, try not to act as dumb as you look."  Ignoring the smaller Mouse's outraged "Hey!", he straddled his bike and rested folded arms on the handlebars.  "That bad, huh?"

            Throttle removed his field specs and rubbed his eyes wearily.  "I can't get her alone for a minute.  How the hell am I s'pposed to apologize and figure out what's buggin' Charlie if she won't let me talk to her?  She hates me, bros, I know it."  The golden-furred Mouse stared off blankly into space, remembering the kiss they had shared before he'd left.  That hadn't been sheer lust on Charlie's part.  There had been something far deeper.

            "Yo, earth to Throttle."  Vinnie waved a hand in front of his face.  "All jokin' aside, ya want I should talk to her?  Most of the time, Charlie-girl doesn't take me seriously anyway, so she might let somethin' slip."

            "I must be crazy, but I'm almost willin' to give that a try.  Do ya think-" Throttle was cut off as Baby Doll suddenly roared to life and swerved into their midst.  "Whoa, Baby, what's wrong?"

            The bike shuddered, and rolled toward the entrance.

"D'ya think somethin's wrong with Charlie?"

Throttle's mind jumped back to back to the five Fighters who had left soon after the human woman.  His battle-honed mind analyzed the picture, trying to figure out why it was bothering him…

They had been loitering in the entranceway, talking quietly amongst themselves.  Their hair all shared a similar cut popular among the newer recruits.  Uniforms all sharp and crisp, colors bright, obviously new…

…Mingling with the usual scents of grease and oil had been an all-too-familiar smell of rotting fish…

That was it!  They weren't fighters at all!

He jumped to his feet and grabbed his bike, jamming his field specs back on his head.  "Charlie's in trouble!  Those Fighters were Plutarkians in disguise!"

Modo and Vinnie mounted up, identical expressions of nerves and anger on their faces.  "Think you can lead us to her through your bond, Baby Doll?"  When the bike honked an affirmative, Vinnie grinned nastily.  "If those damn fish-faces think they can hurt our Charlie-girl, they have another thing comin' to 'em!  Let's go!"

They roared off, quickly following as Charlie's bike led them down several short streets into an abandoned section of town.

Throttle's sensitive ears picked up sounds of a nearby fight.  "We're close!"  Turning a corner, the three were confronted with the sight of Charlie facing off against three Plutarkians.  The blue-green aliens had ditched their facemasks, probably as soon as they'd jumped Charlie.  Two goons lying unconscious on the ground lent evidence to the woman's fighting prowess.

Charlie turned her head and glanced to her right at the sound of the bikes.  Throttle could see the mingled annoyance and relief in her eyes.

One of the assailants still standing took advantage of her lack of attention and lashed out.  He landed a solid punch to her chest, but Charlie grabbed the arm and twisted.  The Plutarkian screamed in pain as his wrist snapped, but his cry was cut off by a swift kick to the gut.  Charlie followed up with a round house to his neck, then grabbed the injured arm again and swung her unfortunate opponent into one of the others.  The two flew into a wall, knocking themselves unconscious.

Facing the angry woman (and three very dangerous-looking Mice), the remaining alien took to his heels and was quickly out of sight.

Brushing past the speechless Bikers, Charlie pressed a button on one of Baby Doll's grips.  After calling for a clean-up crew to take care of the unconscious Plutarkians, she placed her hands on her hips and glared.  "Coming to save the helpless little woman, huh?"

Modo swallowed.  "Well, we thought we were.  Where'd you learn ta fight like that, Charlie-ma'am?"

Charlie crossed her arms.  "Did you really think I'd wind up head of the Earth Resistance Forces if I didn't know how to fight?  Jeeze, guys!  Give me a little credit!"

Throttle caught of some movement out of the corner of his eye.  One of the thugs had regained consciousness, and was struggling to aim a laser.  "Charlie, down!"  He didn't stop to think, but threw himself in front of the redhead.  There was a bzzz, and something hit his side.  Beside him, Modo raised his arm cannon with a growl and fired.  He didn't miss.

"Throttle?"  Charlie knelt beside him as he clutched his side.  "Throttle, where're you hit?"

He grunted and removed the hand he'd clamped over his side.  She glanced down at the wound and gasped in relief.  "Just a flesh wound.  You're okay."

"Ya know, you used to be a lot more worried when we got hurt," he muttered as he pushed himself up and lurched toward his bike.  "Stings like a bitch."

"Wait until you feel the antiseptic I pour on it," she returned.  "I've got medical supplies back at the Garage.  Let's go get you patched up."

*          *          *

An hour later, Charlie placed the short-wave transmitter back on her desk and looked over to where the Mice sat.  Throttle was pulling on another sleeveless jacket, and complaining because the other had been ruined.  "Damn it, it takes forever to get good leather broken in.  Oughta take it out of the bastard's hide."  Once on, it hid the bandages she herself had taped on.

"You should be glad it was the jacket that died, and not you," she said.  "I just finished talking to the crew.  That little group was really desperate to attack me in broad daylight like that.  It's getting really hard for the fish-faces to get their hands on contraband like that nasty laser."

"Desperate for what?"  Modo studied Charlie in a way that made her want to squirm.  "The Plutarkians aren't stupid enough to just throw men and weapons away like that.  Why d' they want you so badly?"

Charlie looked out the window.  "I'm the Freedom Fighter Commander.  Doesn't take too much thinking to figure out how much they must hate me."

"Uh huh."  Modo looked skeptical, but put the issue aside for one that interested him more at the moment.  "Charlie-ma'am, I gotta say, I've never seen a human-bike bond like yours and Baby Doll's.  In fact, I don't think I've ever seen one at all.  I mean, she led us to ya like nothin' I've seen.  Where'd you get her?"

Charlie sat on the edge of the desk and bit her lip.  She was silent for a few minutes, thinking.  "There was a prison camp on the dark side of the moon, and we went there on a mission.  One of the prisoners helping us was a Mouse named Gunner.  The Plutarkians were doing some type of… experiments with him and his bike.  Awful stuff.  There was an unexpected complication, and I almost got killed.  Gunner got to me, with Baby Doll.  He…"  She took a deep breath, let it out again.  "He saved my life, sent me out on Baby Doll.  By the time I regained consciousness and tried to get to him, he was dead."

            Her voice had dropped to a faint whisper.  "I didn't know what to do with Baby Doll, but I brought her back here and fixed her up.  She decided to stay with me."

            "Charlie-girl."  Throttle watched her intently.  "How'd you get to this prison camp in the first place, and how'd you recruit Gunner?  You gotta remember, we were in one of those hellholes.  There's no way in or out."

            Charlie paced across the floor.  "Yeah, well, I guess this one was just a lot more lax then the one you were in.  We liberated a few space-worthy flyers from Limburger –he was still here at that point- and made it up using codes we'd stolen from his computers."

            "Say," Vinnie straightened.  "What ever happened to old Bucket-head anyway?"

            Charlie didn't meet their eyes.  "He was killed."

            "How?"  Throttle glanced over at Modo, who closed the door.  "C'mon, Charlie-girl, he was our main enemy the entire time we were here.  Ya can't blame us for wanting a little more info then that."

            "Why's it matter?  He's dead."

            "It matters to us," Modo said.  "Don't look away like that.  We wanna know.  If you don't tell us, we'll just ask McCyber or one of the other Fighters down at the Warehouse."

            "Fine!"  Her head came up, and she glared at the Mice.  "I killed him!  I was five feet away; I aimed a gun at his head and pulled the trigger.  Limburger's pathetic excuse of a brain was blown all over the back wall of his big fancy office.  And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

            "Wow, Charlie-girl."  Vinnie's eyes were huge.

            "You three muscle-bound idiots can't seem to get it into your head that I'm not the weak little thing you left behind.  I'm strong now, and I do what's necessary during a battle.  Okay?"

            Beside her, Modo stretched out his real arm and laid it gently on her shoulder.  "Good for you, Charlie-ma'am.  I just wish you could-a gotten it on tape."

            "Well, now that that's outta the way, how 'bout some dinner?  I'm starved!"

            Charlie grinned.  It was weak, but it was a genuine attempt at a smile.  Typical Vinnie, to smooth over ruffled edges with the subtlety of a Mack truck.  "You guys go on ahead.  I'll be down in a sec."

            When the Mice were gone, she leaned against the window frame and whispered, "So, what would you have said if I'd told you the truth?"

            *          *          *


	5. Interlude

Well, this is another shorty.  It didn't really fit on the end of last chapter, or on the front of the next, but I think it's a rather necessary section.

Thank you to Morning and The Bookworm for your wonderful and very helpful reviews!

Interlude

Throttle rolled his bike into a corner of the Garage and glanced up at the trapdoor.  Charlie had left the Warehouse early, citing more of the dastardly paperwork that she hated so much.  He had given her an hour to work, then had followed her back.  Damn it, they needed to talk, if he had to tie her to the desk to make her stay.

They were managing to work together companionably enough, but the tension was always there.  He needed to get his feelings out in the open, and he needed to hear Charlie's side of things as well.

Quietly, he climbed the ladder and slipped up into the hallway, hoping to surprise her.  At this point, Throttle wouldn't put it past Charlie-girl to manufacture some sort of excuse just to slip away, and he wasn't about to give her that opportunity.

The door to her office was cracked, and light shone through into the dim hallway.  Throttle gathered his nerves and pushed the door open.

Charlie was curled up in her seat, head resting on one outstretched arm.  She was sleeping.

The Mouse paused, suddenly reluctant to wake her from sleep that he knew she needed.  He hadn't been the only one to notice the seemingly permanent shadows under her eyes, the stress lines on her face.  Well, he could wait for her to wake.  Throttle crossed the room to grab the jacket hanging off the one free chair to cover her with.

"No…"

The murmured denial caught his ears, and he spun around toward the desk.

Charlie's hands were clenched, and her face full of torment.  Her breathing was rapidly becoming very heavy.  "D…don't…please!  I… can't!"  She tossed her head, pressing it into the papers strewn over the desk.

"Charlie-girl, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer, and Throttle realized she was still asleep.  A nightmare!

He dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her shoulder, shaking her gently.  "Charlie-girl, wake up.  It's just a dream.  Wake up."

Instead of pulling her awake, the contact only worsened Charlie's thrashing.  "Sto…p!" she begged, tears slipping out of her closed eyes and falling down her cheek.

"Charlie!"  Slightly panicky, Throttle grasped the woman and pulled her upright, holding her against his chest.  "Sweetie, snap out of it!"

"Ahhh!"  Charlie's eyes sprang open, and she pushed him violently away.  "Leave me-" Awareness slipped back into her eyes, and she rapidly glanced around the room, coming back to stare at the golden-furred Mouse next to her.  "Throttle?"

"You were havin' a nightmare, Charlie.  A real doozie by the looks of things.  You okay?"

The human took a couple of deep breaths, and nodded.  "Yeah.  Thanks.  Sorry about that." She stared down at the desk, avoiding his eyes in the manner he had come to associate with Charlie's hiding something.  "So, umm, why'd you come back here?"  She glanced at the clock.  "It's only ten.  Things at the Warehouse should still be going strong."

Throttle actually caught himself glancing away to a small tear in his jeans.  "I, uh, wanted ta talk to you."

"Throttle."  Despite the tears that still clung to her lashes, there was a strong note of warning in Charlie's voice, but he drove gamely on.

"Maybe you don't want to listen, but I'm gonna tell ya anyways.  We can't go on the way we are, Charlie-girl."

"Fine."  She stood and wiped her face on her sleeve.  "But we'll take this outside.  Anyone down in the garage?"

"Not when I drove in."

"All right."  Charlie walked around the desk, carefully avoiding contact with the large Mouse.  "Downstairs.  But I need some coffee first."  He followed her into a smaller room down the hall.  It was easy to tell that it had formerly been her kitchen; the same old appliances were there, in slightly different places.  Same battered cabinets, same old tiny table that Modo had smashed in a brief moment of rage, then painstakingly (and painfully) repaired.  He was touched to see that she hadn't replaced it.  Charlie grabbed the half-full carafe that stood on the hot plate, and filled a mug.  When she lifted the carafe in his direction, he nodded, and she grabbed another mug for him.

Throttle trailed her back down the ladder, being careful not to spill his drink.  She crossed to Baby Doll and sat sideways on the seat.  After a sip of her coffee, she stared up at him.  "So, spill."

Throttle took a deep breath and forged on.  "We need to talk about what happened that night before I left Earth."

"You mean the kiss?"

His ears flattened at her careless tone.  "Yes."

Charlie flapped her hand at him.  "I guess I should apologize for that.  I was feeling so upset at your leaving that I let my hormones get a jump on me.  I felt a little guilty for jumping you like that.  It-"

He interrupted her.  "Don't lie to me, Charlene.  You and I both know there was more to it then that.  Why else have you been so set on not bein' alone with me?"

"I haven't-"

"Yes, you have!" Throttle yelled.  He pulled off his field specs and glared at the woman who seemed so intent on pulling out his heart to save her own.  "Every damn time we're left alone in a room together, you've got somethin' 'urgent' to take care of.  Ever since the day we got back, you've been avoidin' me!  I'm sick and tired of it, and I want a straight answer!"

"Fine!  I have!"  Charlie didn't seem frightened of him now.  She pushed away from her bike and stalked over to him.  "I've been avoiding you because I knew that this was exactly the sort of thing that would happen.  We had feelings between us six years ago, but we agreed it wouldn't work.  Well, maybe Carbine's not in your life now, but I don't want a relationship!  I can't handle one right now!  I've got too goddamn much else to deal with, and I'm not about to start something that's just going to rip us apart!   That's going to rip _me_ apart!  Get it?!"

"All right."  She seemed quite taken aback by his calm voice, so very different from the roar of moments ago.  "You could'a just told me that, Charlie-girl.  You didn't need to get yourself so riled up."

"Umm…"  Charlie was silent for a moment, staring down at the floor.  He could see the tips of her ears through her hair, and they were bright pink.  "I'm sorry, Throttle.  I'm just really stressed out right now."

"I know.  We all are.  Are we friends again?"  

She looked back up, and smiled.  "Okay."  This time, when he drew her into a brief hug, she didn't resist.  Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed.  "We're something, ya know that?"

"Yeah."  He pulled away, keeping his arms around her, and grinned.  "Yeah, we are."  He started to move, but was caught by the gleaming emeralds of her eyes.  They sparkled, still slightly red from her earlier tears, flashing from her brief fury.  They were so beautiful…

"Throttle," she murmured.

He could feel it again, that same tug that had pulled then into each other's arms so many years ago.  Time hadn't diminished it at all. 

Then she blinked, and pulled her arms from around his neck.  She cleared her throats.  "Well, I'm, um, glad that's settled.  I didn't really like avoiding you."

"Yeah."  He fought down the frustration that had risen inside of him.  The first step had been accomplished.  There would be plenty of time for the next.

If, of course, he had the patience.

*          *          *


	6. Secret's Out

Chapter Four

"I'm telling you, Charlie, you should have seen the Big Guy here!  Cute little bow on his tail and everything!"  Vinnie slapped the counter and howled with laughter.  Beside him, Charlie and Throttle laughed at the story, while Modo grinned sheepishly and reminded himself that tackling his bro in the busy bar wouldn't really be acceptable.

            It had been three days since the attack on Charlie.  As was usual, they were all gathered in the Warehouse for dinner and a few drinks.

            Nearby, a couple of drunks hooted as they pushed at a young man.  Charlie noticed and raised an eyebrow towards Dugger.  The bouncer gave her a thumbs-up from across the room, signaling that he had his eye on the group.  A little friendly roughness was normal, in fact almost expected, in the bar, as long as it didn't get out of hand.  Satisfied, she turned back to her drink.

            Unexpectedly, the drunks tripped their victim as he tried to escape to the bar.  He fell and caught himself, in the process knocking over several drinks on the counter.  Charlie swore and shoved away as the alcohol flowed toward her.

"Oh, shit.  Did you get wet, Charlie?"  Gaia appeared with cloths and began to wipe up the mess. 

Charlie shook her head ruefully as she waved off the apologies of the poor young man.  From the corner of her eye, she saw Dugger calmly but forcefully begin to escort the drunken group out.  Pushing was fine; nearly drenching the Commander was not.  Rank was good for something, at least.  "Nah, I'm fine.  Just soaked my gloves.  See if you can find me something to dry these off with, okay?"  She stripped of the fingerless gloves that she was never without, and grabbed a towel to dry her hands.

All of a sudden, Throttle grabbed her arm.  She opened her mouth to tell him off, but he beat her to it.  "Where'd ya get the tattoo, Charlie-girl?"  The hush of his voice caught his bros' attention, and they both turned to stare at the arm he held.

On the underside of her wrist, just below where her palm met her arm, was a small green tattoo.  It was an odd symbol, and clearly hadn't originated on Earth.  Throttle hadn't noticed it before, because her gloves were just long enough to cover it completely.

Charlie snatched her arm from Throttle's grasp.  "It's none of your business."  Her harsh voice cut through the noise of the room like a knife, and everyone fell silent, watching the small group at the bar with careful curiosity.

Wordlessly, Throttle untied the bandanna wrapped around his own wrist.  There, in the same place, was a similar green tattoo.  "There's only one place to get that mark, Charlie.  Why didn't ya tell us you were in a prison camp?"  Modo and Vinnie both gasped, and stared into her face.

She growled.  "This isn't the place.  It's none of your business, but we'll take this outside."  She turned to face the quiet room, and glared.  Everyone began to talk again, loudly and nervously.  With that, she grabbed the still-wet gloves and stalked out.  The Mice followed.

"Charlie-ma'am," Modo began.

"Not here.  I don't need my fighters to hear this."  She jumped onto her bike and took off, leaving the Mice to hurriedly grab their own and follow her.

Charlie led them to a nearby park that had been left virtually untouched by the war.  Leaving Baby Doll against an old oak, she leaned on the other side of the trunk, arms and legs crossed defensively.  "So, what do you want to know?"

Vinnie scratched the back of his head.  "Cheese, Charlie-girl.  Why didn't ya tell us?"  When she didn't answer, but stared out over the lake, Modo nudged his bro.

"When, Charlie-ma'am?  Could ya at least tell us that?"

She let out a heavy breath, refusing to meet their eyes.  "A few months after you left, Limburger figured out that you weren't coming back, so he sent his goons around to the garage.  They broke in and caught me by surprise, hauled me back with them.  You weren't here to break in and save me like usual, so I was on my own.  Got sent to that prison camp I told you about, the one on the moon, for a year.  Gunner, Baby Doll's original owner, was in the cell next to mine, and he helped me escape.  I tried to get him out too, but he didn't make it.  He sent Baby with me, and I couldn't have gotten out without her.  I made it home, and took a bunch of top-level secret information with me.  That's why the damn fish-faces began to attack the way they did.  Couldn't let me make it off with what I knew.  I threw together a resistance group, the Plutarkians killed off the military types, and I took over because the humans needed someone to lead them.  That's it, end of story.  Happy now?"  Her voice broke off, and she looked down, studying her boots.

"No, I'm not."  Throttle grasped her shoulder gently.  "I don't understand why ya didn't tell us.  I thought we were-"

"Friends?"  Charlie laughed bitterly.  "I didn't want you to feel guilty.  I knew you would, and you didn't need that on your shoulders.  I got over it, got myself fixed up.  I'm fine now.  Okay?  If you're finished with the interrogation, I'd really like to be alone now."  

"All right, Sweetheart."  Vinnie's usually exuberant voice was quiet.  "But if you ever want to talk about it, we're here for ya.  You know that."  Modo brushed a soft hand over her hair, then silently followed his bro to the bikes.  She heard them exchange muted words with Throttle, and then they started up, and left.  Now, there was only-

"They raped you, didn't they."  It wasn't a question.

She glanced up at Throttle.  "Why's it matter if they did?  I survived everything they did to me."

"It took me a while to figure it out.  You don't get touched a lot; most of the fighters aren't about to hug their commander.  But whenever one of us does, or Jack, you freeze up for a sec.  It's not noticeable to someone who doesn't know you.  We know you.  And maybe you've forgotten, but my people have been at war with these bastards for a long time, and I've seen what they do to women in the camps."

She nodded.  "I see."

He reached over and grasped her other shoulder.  "Don't tense up, Charlene.  I've also seen the state some of our own were in when we got them out.  There wasn't a single Mouse, male or female, who wasn't "worked" on by the goddamn scientists.  I can't think that this camp would be any exception.  Am I right?"  His voice was gentle and low.  When she shook her head, he tightened his hold minutely.  "Yes, Charlene.  Now.  Trust me when I tell you it will help."

"The scientists never had a real chance to play with a human woman before.  It was like putting a kid in a candy store.  They couldn't wait to find out what made me tick.  Throttle, you're hurting me."

Throttle realized that his grasp on her shoulders had tightened unconsciously.  He took a deep breath and loosened it.  "Sorry."

"S'okay.  Anyway, they amused themselves with me and my innards for several months, then threw me in a cell and only took me out when they thought of something new to try."

"Charlie-girl, I want you to look at me."  

Left no real choice, she raised her head and looked into his eyes.  He'd removed his field specs, and the sight of those deep garnet eyes dredged up memories of the night before he'd left Earth.  She bit her lip and shoved the thoughts from her head.

"I'm gonna to hug you, okay?  Just hug you; that's all."  And bending down, Throttle wrapped his arms tenderly around her.  At the sweet gesture, Charlie felt her eyes tear up, and her chest began to hurt from holding in the sobs that wanted so much to come out.  He noticed her efforts, and stroked a hand down her back.  "Cry if ya need.  I'm here for ya."

And she did.  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she cried the tears that she had refused to cry five years ago, when they had hurt her, and humiliated her.  She cried tears for the soldiers she had sent out to die against the Plutarkians.  And she cried for the many times she had yearned for Throttle's presence, for the Bikers' presence.  She cried quietly, but for a long time.

Throttle had shifted so that she cuddled in his lap, and he sat with his back against the tree.  She became aware of the soft, comforting nothings he whispered in her ear as he cradled her.  And of the tender kisses he dropped on her brow.

When she moved, he released her, allowing her to lean away and look up at him.  "Throttle, I-"

"You've been holdin' things in too long, Charlie-girl.  It's not healthy."  He placed a furred hand on her cheek as he studied her.  "I think that helped.  We get it out by cursin' and yellin', and punchin' walls and each other.  You keep everything bottled up tight.  We're always here for you now, remember that."  He touched his lips to her forehead, and to her cheek, and her nose, then stopped and stared into her eyes.  "Charlie-girl," he whispered.

Charlie couldn't move away.  This was what she'd longed for so many years ago.  She could feel herself moving closer, just as he did.  Their lips touched.  And again.  And again until the separate kisses bended into one long stream of heaven.

Finally, she managed to break free of the hold desire held over her.  She turned her head away, and pressed her brow into his shoulder.  "I can't do this.  I'm sorry, Throttle.  I just can't."

She could feel his muscles tense. Could feel him fighting his own cravings.  Finally though, he released her, and nodded.  "Okay.  I understand."

She took a deep breath.  "I'd like to go home now."

"Sure."

*          *          *

After stopping by the Warehouse to pay the tab they'd forgotten, Vinnie and Modo arrived back at the now-deserted Garage.  After thumbing the switch to raise the door, Vinnie jumped off his bike and punched the nearest wall.  "Damnit!" he growled.  

            Modo dragged up a weak grin.  "Didn't make a hole.  I guess they've reinforced this place enough so it's even Vinnie-proof."  When the smaller Mouse turned toward him, fire in his eyes, he held his hands out.  "Sorry.  Look, you wanna fight?  We can fight. But not in here, okay?  I'm not gonna wreck Charlie-girl's headquarters just because we're pissed about a secret she kept from us."

"But it's not just a secret!"  Vinnie howled.  "She spent almost a year in a goddamn prison camp, and she didn't tell us!"

"So she finally told you, did she?"  Jack McCyber came out from the back room.  "I was wondering when she'd break down."

"We saw the prison tattoo on her wrist." Modo's eye gleamed a deep, burning red in the dim light, and it was easy to see the effort he was putting into keeping his calm.  "She gave us the bare bones.  I take it you know more?"

Jack shook his head wearily.  "I was there when she made it home.  Took her weeks to get back on her feet.  Luckily, the Martians who helped her escape the camp got her to a good med-tech.  They had to replace a lot of stuff."  His hands clenched.  "Whenever I think about it, I want to hunt down the bastards who did it and rip their guts out with my bare hands."

"Hold on a sec.  What'd they replace?" Vinnie wanted to know.  "I didn't see any metal parts on her. 

Jack caught himself.  "Sorry.  I probably shouldn'ta even told you that much.  Charlie would kick my ass if she knew."  When the two Mice scowled, he held up his hands.  "Look, Charlie keeps her secrets to herself, and I'm not gonna snitch on her.  She'll tell you when she's good and ready."

The conversation was interrupted by the roar of two bikes.  The three jumped upright when Charlie and Throttle drove into the Garage.  Charlie took her helmet off and looked Modo and Vinnie squarely in the eyes.  "You guys should head out.  You need to be in by curfew," she added, referring to the city-wide safety curfew that required everyone to be home by one a.m."

"You okay, Sweetheart?"  Vinnie glanced guiltily at the dents in the wall.  She followed his gaze and smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah.  Thanks."  She included Modo and Throttle in her quiet gratitude.  They nodded and reached for their own helmets.  Throttle paused briefly to place a hand against her cheek, and she leaned into it momentarily.  Then she straightened and pointed toward the street.  "Home, guys.  I don't want to have to haul you in for breaking any of my own rules."

And with that, as though nothing had happened, she turned and headed up the ladder, leaving the Mice nothing to do but gun their engines and start back to the scoreboard.

*          *          *


	7. Deal With It

Chapter Five

Charlie groaned softly and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to avert the headache that had been brewing all day.  All week, in fact.  Since they had found out about her stint in the prison camp, the Mice had been tiptoeing around her on padded feet, almost afraid to say anything that might raise the subject again.  At least one of them was _always_ there, providing some weird sort of honor guard for her.

It was driving her crazy.

I can remember a time when I would have been thrilled to have Throttle around twenty-four/seven.  Now, the sight of any of them standing outside my door makes my want to scream.

Who was currently  "on duty"?  Charlie craned her neck, and caught a hint of gray fur.  "Modo?" she called sweetly.

The big gray warrior peeked into the office.  "Yes, Charlie-ma'am?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm famished.  I hate to treat you like an errand boy, but could you run out and grab us something?  I have to finish up here."  It was weak, but it was the only thing she could think of short of physically kicking his big gray butt down the ladder.

"Just a sec, ma'am."  Modo disappeared, and Charlie breathed an enormous sigh of relief.

"Hey, Vinnie."  Modo poked his head down through the trap door.  "Vinnie, get your butt over here."

The white biker turned away from the three female Fighters he was flirting with and groaned up at the older Mouse.  "What d'ya want, Bro?  I'm kinda busy here!"

"Go grab something for Charlie to eat."

"Why can't you do it?"  Vinnie's antennae twitched in the direction of the women.  Red heads.  Modo tried to hide his grin; Vinnie loved redheads.

"Because it's my turn to look after Charlie-girl.  Unless you want Fearless Leader to come after your ass…"  Modo allowed his words to trail off, leaving Vinnie contemplating the dangers of an angry Throttle after his tail.

Vinnie sighed and turned back to the woman.  "Sorry, ladies, but duty calls."

Modo smiled and resumed his spot outside Charlie's office.  To tell the truth, he wasn't finding this glorified guard duty very exciting either, but he couldn't blame Throttle's reasoning.  Charlie's little revelation had left them all stunned.

A few moments later, the human woman emerged from her office, empty coffee mug in hand.  Her classic double take at Modo's presence made him want to laugh, but she only slipped into the kitchen to refill her coffee before returning to the office.  Modo thought he heard something hit the wall.

"Modo?"  This time, Charlie's voice wasn't quite so sweet.  "Would you come in here please?"

When he looked into the office, she gestured toward the chair on the other side of the desk.  "Close the door, please."  As he turned, Modo glanced around the room.  Sure enough, there was a boot lying over near the wall.

"What is it, Charlie-ma'am?"  He knew what it was; he just wanted to avert the shouting.

"I thought you said you'd get something to eat."

"I sent Vinnie.  He wasn't doing anythin' but flirting, anyway."

Charlie rested her head in her hands.  "Okay, Modo."  Her soft, husky voice was slightly muffled.  "What is this all about?"

"What is what all about?"

She picked her head up and glared at him.  Feeling the full force of her stare, and remembering the way she's taken apart the Plutarkians who'd attacked her, Modo suddenly found himself wishing for Throttle to be in his place.  "Modo, sweetie, I would like you to tell me why I find myself accompanied by you and your bros at all hours of the day.  If not for the bathroom door, I wouldn't have any privacy at all!"

"Now that's not true, Ma'am.  You know we'd never peek at you when you were-"

A frightening noise emerged from Charlie's throat.  "Shit, Modo, you know what I mean!  I don't need bodyguards!  I can take care of myself!"

"I know that, Charlie-ma'am.  No one ever said you weren't able to-"

"Shut up and tell me the truth.  I want to know why you think you need to protect me!  If you don't tell me in the next minute, I'll demonstrate exactly how well I can take care of myself!"

That was it.  Modo knew when to stick up for his bros, and when to let them fight their own battles.  "You should probably ask Throttle, Ma'am.  He wanted us to keep an eye on you."

Charlie, who was all set to continue yelling, took a deep breath.  "Where is he?"

"Out with one of the Fighter crews."

Keeping an eye on Modo, she picked up her hand-held and spoke to someone.  "Ace, figure out which crew Throttle's with and get in touch with their group leader.  I need Throttle here in my office ASAP.  No, I don't care where they are right now; I've seen him on that bike and it won't take him more then ten minutes.  Okay, thank you.  Out."  And with that, she placed the communicator back on her desk and smiled at Modo.  "Thank you.  I think you can go downstairs now.  I'm sure there's something you can do with yourself for the next half hour, right?"

There was nothing Modo wanted more.

*            *            *

Throttle pulled up at the Garage.  He was pretty sure he knew why he'd been recalled, and he was pretty sure that he knew who –and what- was waiting for him upstairs.  It was not a pleasant thought.

A flash of gray fur caught his eye, and he turned to see Modo bent over a flyer with one of the many techs.  "Bro, what're you doing down here?"

The taller Mouse refused to meet his eyes.  "Charlie-ma'am kicked me out.  I think you should get up there.  Good luck."

With a growl, Throttle whirled and continued up the ladder to the threshold of Charlie's office.

"Why, Throttle.  So good of you to stop by.  Got a sec?"  To the casual observer, Charlie's posture, her facial expression, was very calm.  Almost relaxed.  Throttle wasn't feeling very casual, and the tension in the room made his antennae stand straight.

"Why'd you kick Modo downstairs?"  He placed his hands on the desk and leaned over until his face was nearly level with that of the human woman who continued to drive him crazy.

"Why'd you tell him and Vinnie to follow me around everywhere I go?"  He could feel his ear twitch.  "Come on, Throttle.  Why do I suddenly find myself seeing furry body-guards every time I turn around?"

"We're just keepin' an eye on you.  That's all.  You're tough, Charlie-girl, I'll give ya that, but I don't want you to get hurt when an extra body could make the difference."  When he'd decided that he and his bros would protect Charlie, he had used that exact same argument to justify the move.  Somehow, it now sounded rather silly.

Charlie evidently agreed.  "That's ridiculous.  Now it's your turn to start telling some truths, Throttle.  I want you to tell me why, and then I want you and your bros to lay off."

"Why, Charlie-girl?  It's not like we're getting' in your way or anything."  Her left eyebrow rose.  As he stared at her, it rose even higher.  "I mean, admit that you needed the help in that factory yesterday.  If not for Vinnie, that Pl-"

She stood up, getting in his face.  "Damn it, don't try to distract me, Throttle!  Give me a reason, and give it to me now!"

"Because I don't know what else to do!"  The level of Throttle's roar pushed Charlie back down into her chair.  "Because every time I think of what happened to you, I want to rip something apart, and I don't know how to take care of you!"  Throttle stopped yelling, and turned around to stare at the door.  The room was silent.  When he started talking again, he almost didn't recognize his own voice, it was so soft.  "Shit, Charlie-girl, we should'a been there.  We should'a saved you, but we were too busy off helpin' our own people clean up what we thought was a done deal when the Plutarkians were just movin' their operation here to Earth.  And we just left you to deal with all of that."

"Throttle…" Behind him, Charlie was silent.  He heard her shifting uncomfortably.  "Throttle, it wasn't your fault."

"They grabbed you because you'd been helpin' us."

"Throttle, you were needed on Mars.  They couldn't have pulled off those final few offensive maneuvers without the Biker Mice, and you know it."  She stood and crossed around until she stood in front of him.  When he shifted his stare to the ceiling, she reached up and grabbed his face, pulling it down until he met her eyes.  "Even if you'd never crashed on Earth, I would still have gotten involved.  Do you remember how we first met?"

He nodded.  "Limburger wanted the Garage."

"That's right."  Charlie's voice was gentle, almost the sweet sound he remembered from so many years ago.  "And Bucket-Head wouldn't have taken no for an answer.  Maybe I wouldn't have found myself fighting rotten-smelling aliens, but there's no way I would have sat back and let him ruin Chicago like he was planning.  The thing is, you did crash here, and we did team up, and Limburger did hate me almost as much as he hated you.  Call it destiny if you like, but you can't change what happened."

"The prison camp-"

The pain in Charlie's eyes left him wanting to sweep her up into the safety of his arms.  To protect her from everything.  "Being there, going through what I did, gave me the strength and determination to fight, and to lead fighters.  It's made me who I am, and I don't think I'd change that if I had the choice."

"Charlie-girl…"

"I guess I can understand your thinking, Throttle.  And I love having you guys back on Earth; it's the best thing that's happened to me in ages.  Me, Charlie, and not me, the Commander.  I missed you all.  But putting all personal feelings aside, your playing bodyguard is making the Commander look weak, like I can't take care of myself.  It's making little problems among the troops.  So I need you to all back off a little and give me room.  Okay?"

Throttle blew out a heavy breath and ran one hand through his tangled hair.  "Makes sense.  All right, Charlie-girl.  No more body guards."

"Thanks, Throttle."  Charlie rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek.  "Now get outta here and let me work without the distraction of those wiggling tails of yours.  I hear they're serving gundel morsh over at the Warehouse," she said, referring to a Martian dish that had made an enormous hit among the Earth forces.  "Why don't you boys run over and grab some before it's gone, and I'll join you as soon as I'm finished?"

"More paperwork?" He asked with a grin.

She groaned and nodded.  "I swear, once this is all over, I'm resigning and building the biggest bonfire ever known to Man."

"Sure.  I'll see you soon, Charlie-girl."

She sat back down at her desk and waved him off, and Throttle dropped through the trap door into the Garage.  As soon as his feet touched the ground, his eyes were drawn to the two Mice leaning in the corner, waiting for him.

"We allowed to stop wastin' our time now, Throttle?"  Vinnie was, as ever, blunt.

"Shuddup, Vinnie."

"AOOWWWW!"  The smaller white Mouse leapt up to exchange high-fives with his gray buddy.  "Ladies, here I come!"

"You okay, Throttle?"  Modo, although just as exuberant at the freedom as Vinnie, peered through his one eye at their leader.  "Charlie-girl didn't take too big a bite out of you?"  Maybe he'd made himself scarce, and maybe the walls here were well reinforced, but he'd heard the faint sound of yelling from upstairs.

"Nah.  We came to an understanding.  She's meetin' us at the Warehouse in a while."

"Paperwork?"  They all grinned at each other.  The amount of reports, copies, and other stuff Charlie was expected to deal with had become something of a joke among the three.  Just another example of how weird humans were.

"Excuse me."  They turned and looked down at the young man who had originally showed them up to Charlie's office when they'd arrived on Earth.  Mitch, Throttle's mind whispered.

"Somethin' ya need, Mitch?" he asked.

The kid flushed, apparently thrilled to be remembered, and glanced over his shoulder at the small group of Fighters lingering over in the entranceway.  They all looked to be about his age: late teens, and just old enough to all have a mammoth case of hero-worship for their Commander.  Mitch, Throttle remembered, had it bad.

Mitch swallowed and stammered out what his group had evidently kicked him over to ask.  "We were all, uh, wondering…  You knew the Commander before the war.  Could you, maybe, um, tell us what she was like?  I mean, it's not that big a deal or anything, and if you're busy… but it would be kinda cool…"

"No prob!"  Vinnie clapped a hand over his shoulder, and Throttle silently amended his opinion of the young Fighter when his knees didn't buckle.  "Did you ever hear about the Masked Motorcyclist?"

"The Masked what, sir?"

Modo laughed and climbed onto his Fat Boy.  "Let's head over to the Warehouse, and we'll give you the down-and-dirty on what Charlie-girl was like before the leader bug bit her in the ass.  Oh, have we got some stories for you!"

*          *            *


	8. And Deal Some More

I hope that everyone can forgive me for taking so long in posting this latest chapter.  I warn you, it's sort of a cliff-hanger, but I've got the next chapter in the works, and I might even have it up by the weekend!  Enjoy!  (And don't forget to R&R!)

Chapter Six

"Any idea what's got Charlie pissed off this time?"

Throttle shook his head at Vinnie as he wiped grease off his hands.  "Not a friggin' clue.  I thought she'd forgiven us for the Masked Motorcyclist thing…"  Vinnie joined him in wincing at the memory.  Charlie had not been pleased to walk into the Warehouse only to be greeted by hoots and cries of 'Here she comes to save the day…' and 'Hey, Commander, where's the purple leather!'  It had taken two hours of drinks and apologies before she would unwind enough to even look at the Mice with something kinder then a glower.

He turned to Modo and noticed the slightly bemused look on his gray bro's face.  "You know somethin', man?"

Modo shrugged his shoulders.  "Might be.  I think it has somethin' to do with that pregnant woman.  I was lookin' at Charlie when the girl announced it, and Charlie-girl looked awfully upset."  A few days earlier, one of the Fighters had run into the Warehouse yelling ecstatically that she was pregnant.  The entire building had erupted in cheers and congratulations for the first baby of the newly freed Earth. 

Throttle shook his head in confusion.  "I dunno why that'd tick her off, though."

"Maybe she's jealous?"

"Jealous?  Charlie-girl?  Are you kiddin', Modo?  Charlie was always talkin' about how she didn't really like kids.  Why'd she want one now?"  Vinnie leaned against his bike and stretched.

"I don't know, but maybe-"

"Can it, bros.  Steamed redhead at four o'clock."  Throttle jerked upright and tried to look busy.  It didn't work.

"Don't you motor mouths have anything better to do then take up space in my garage?"  Charlie stalked past them and grabbed a wrench.  "Some of us have work to do!"

"Cheese, Charlie-girl.  We were just-"

"And would you cut it with that Charlie-girl crap!  Charlie, sure, Charlie-ma'am, fine.  But damn it, Charlie-girl makes me sound like some street rat!  I know you Mice are slack on the respect stuff, but humans aren't, and I've got fighters grinning at me like…" She trailed off as she became aware of the stunned and confused faces on the three Mice and threw her hands in the air, nearly braining Vinnie with the wrench.  "Oh, never mind!  Go… find something to do!"  And she stalked back to the machine she was tweaking on the other side of the expanded garage, leaving the stench of smoked rodent in her wake.

"You guys want to go for a ride?"

"Good idea."

But they were interrupted by a sudden squawk on the radio.  Moments later, a pale face appeared on the screen.  "Commander Davidson!  Oh, god, where's the Commander?"

"I'm right here, Donya.  What's going on?"  Charlie ran to the screen and pressed the two-way switch.

"You gotta come down here, Commander, it's just awful!  They're… they're all… It's horrible!"  The young woman's face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were glassy with shock.

"Donya.  Donya, honey, you need to calm down.  Take a deep breath, and tell me what you've found."  Charlie's voice was low and soothing, but Throttle could see that her hands, out of sight of the console, were clenched and white.

Donya gulped for breath.  "We were looking through some of the sewers that hadn't been checked, under the old section of the city.  Well, you know that Plutarkian lab that you thought they had somewhere?  The one you couldn't find?  I'm not too clear on where we are exactly, but I think we found it."  She hiccupped, clearly on the brink of hysterical sobs.

Charlie took a deep breath of her own.  "Okay, sweetie.  I want all of you out of there.  We'll track you through your communicators.  Get up top, and we'll meet you there.  Keep a close eye out for any fish heads.  Let the others know that I'm on my way.  Just keep it together until I get there.  Can you do that?"  At Donya's jerky nod, she flicked the screen off and turned around to face the trio.  "I need you three with me."

Throttle reached toward her uneasily.  "Charlie, are you-"

She brushed his hesitant question aside.  "I don't have time for that now."  She picked up her hand-held and flipped a switch.  "Attention, all Fighter units.  This is Commander Davidson.  I want all available units to meet me at…" she fiddled with a tracker attached to her belt, "at the intersection of Prince and Main.  I expect you all to be packing and prepared for possible resistance."

Charlie looked around the garage at the various men and women who had filed in as word of the discovered lab spread during her call.  "I want recording equipment.  Markers.  Body bags.  If this is what I think it is, it's not going to be pretty.  You need to puke, do it, but do it outside."  Her grin was tight and sick.  "We will, after all, be in the sewers.  I'm heading over.  Get there with the equipment ASAP."

*            *            *

Charlie was right.  It wasn't pretty.  The lab had been the equivalent of an on-planet prison camp.  Throttle had watched, throat tight, as men and women, both young and old, cried unashamedly while they went about their grisly task of cleaning up.  Several did in fact have to drop everything, caught in the clutches of nausea.  The Plutarkian scientists had done their job all too well.  Some of the … things… in the tubes and on the tables were just barely recognizable as human.

They had run out of body bags.

Charlie had gritted her teeth and ordered people to start using extra-large heavy-duty garbage bags while a group ran back to search for more.

At one point, when no one was watching, he had crossed behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  The strength there had surprised him, as always.  For all that he knew what she was capable of, it didn't seem possible for so much power to rest in and on such a fragile-looking body.

"How did ya know this was here?  Did they tell you?  Were you…" he had to ask, "Did they keep ya here?"

Charlie had shaken her head grimly.  "No.  This place was established after I was taken off planet.  But I heard them talking about it.  Goddamn scientists sounded so pleased with themselves.  I've spent the last few years looking for it, but the sewer system under Chicago is so big, it was a toss-up that we'd find it."  She looked around at her people, and Throttle could see as she forcefully restrained tears of her own.  "Well, we found it, all right."

He could understand her need to appeal strong, untouchable.  He had felt the same thing when leading Mice back on Mars.  

Now, hours later, it seemed as though every single Freedom Fighter had packed him or herself into the Warehouse.  He could understand that too, the need to simply be with members of your race, to reassure yourself that you were still alive, still healthy.  The building was unusually quiet, as people softly comforted each other, and shed a last few tears for the horrors they had seen that day.

Charlie sighed next to him.  "It's gonna take a few days for everyone to get back to normal.  Most of these people have seen some combat, but I can think of only a handful that've actually seen or experienced a prison camp or lab.  I just hope the Fish-heads lie low for a while."

Throttle nodded silently.  There was really nothing he could say, and he accepted that.  He was one of the few that Charlie included in her small count.  He knew exactly what she meant.

A minor commotion near the door caught their attention, and Throttle noticed Charlie's jaw tighten as several groups called for the newcomer's attention.  It was the pregnant woman.  Mai-ling smiled and rubbed her belly gently as she waved to everyone and joined a table.

He glanced at Charlie from the corner of her eye.  Could Modo be right?  There was a definite tension, an unhappiness, that hadn't been there a moment ago.  "Charlie-girl?  You okay?"

"Dandy.  I'm heading home."  And with that, the petite woman grabbed her jacket and started toward the door.

He caught Modo and Vinnie's eyes and nodded after her.  They nodded back and relaxed against the bar.  He'd go after her, find out what was wrong.  

By the time he'd made his way through the doors, Baby Doll's taillights were all that remained visible against the dark night.  With a muttered curse, he whistled for his own bike and hopped on.  "C'mon, Sweetie, can ya catch 'er?"  The bike revved its engine in reply and took off.

*            *            *

Charlie swung off of Baby Doll and kicked an empty paint can into the wall.  The harsh clatter was satisfyingly loud in the silent garage, but it wasn't nearly enough to dispel the angry hurt boiling inside.  "Damn it!" she screamed.  "It's just not fucking fair!"

Baby Doll blinked her lights and rumbled soothingly.  "Sorry, hon, it's okay.  I'll get over it."  Charlie patted the bike reassuringly and climbed up through the trap door.  It seemed that everyone was over at the Warehouse, which meant she had the entire headquarters to herself.  Well, that was fine; she didn't want anyone to hear her anyway.

Throwing her jacket into the office, she continued up to the fourth floor, to her rooms.  They weren't fancy.  Just what she'd managed to save of her old furniture, plus some new stuff the Fighters had found for her.

A full-length mirror hung across the den.  Charlie crossed to it and looked at her reflection.  The long auburn hair was her one pride and joy when it came to her appearance.  It fell loosely to her waist, the weight comfortable against her neck.

The Plutarkians had liked it too.

She shook her head, banishing that thought.  The past was the past, and everyone who had hurt her was dead.

She'd killed most of them herself.

One hand slowly moved from her side to cover her abdomen.

"It's not fair," she whispered again.

"Why don't you like Mai-Ling?"

The deep voice from behind her pushed a startled shriek from her throat.  Whirling, Charlie pulled her gun from its holster and aimed toward the intruder.  When she saw who it was –she should have recognized his voice- she sighed.

"What do you want, Throttle?  I'm not really in the mood right now."

The large golden-furred Mouse didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to look around.  "It's nice," he said.  "Almost like your old apartment."

"I'll be sure to give to compliment to my interior decorator.  Throttle, I'd like you to leave now."

Again, he ignored her scarcely veiled order, studying her.  He'd removed his field specs on the way up, and the way his eyes moved over her body made her want to blush, to squirm, to throw herself into his arms and forget about the rest of the world.

Charlie shook the thought off and glared at him.

"I wanna know why ya look so unhappy every time you see Mai-Ling."  He repeated his original question.

She shook her head.  "That's none of your business."

"You didn't have a problem with her before.  I would'a remembered.  So why's her havin' a baby suddenly got you so peeved?"  Throttle's voice was quiet, calm.

"Why does it matter?"  She knew her voice sounded desperate, but she couldn't help it.  "Why do you care?  It's my problem, and I'm dealing with it by myself!"

"By hidin' the hurt away, hopin' no one'll see it?  That's not dealin', Charlie-girl.  That's runnin' away, and I never thought I'd see ya do that.  I thought you were stronger then that."  That soothing, commanding voice was bringing her closer and closer to the edge.  Closer to telling him everything.  But it was her secret, her pain, and she couldn't see him know.

"Yeah, well, I never thought you wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.  Damn it, Throttle, you've heard most of my deep dark secrets, can't you leave me one?"  She hadn't meant to even say that much.

Now he was studying her again.  "What haven't you told me, Charlie-girl?"

"Nothing!"  She spun away, and stalked into the kitchen, where she grabbed a soda from the fridge.  "Why can't you just keep your stupid fuzzy face outta my business?  So what if I don't want to tell you everything?  That's my business!  Now get out of my apartment and go home!"  She struggled with the bottle top, unable to pry the stubborn metal up.

His patient hand reached around her to take the bottle, opening it effortlessly.  "Now you're just being a coward."

She slapped him.  Hauled back her hand and smacked him across the snout.  "Fuck you!"  She lashed out again and again with her fists, striking the surprised Mouse on his head, shoulders, chest.  "Who asked you to come back and mess up my life again?  I was doing fine!  Fine!  But you just won't let up, won't stop prying.  I finally get my life back together, and you burst in and start pulling everything apart!"

Throttle finally overcame his shock and grabbed her fists, pulling her to his chest.  She fought him, thrashing and even biting in her struggle to get away.  At last, he grabbed her shoulders and thrust her back against the wall.  "Get a hold over yourself, Charlene!  I'm trying ta help!  So what's one stupid pregnant human done to get you so upset?!  You don't even like kids!"

Blinded by anger and hurt, Charlie lost control of the words she had held so tightly to, and they ripped themselves from her chest.  "Well, I'll never get to know now!  They took even that away from me!  I can't ever have a baby!"

*          *            *


	9. Humpty Dumpty

I have to apologize for not posting this sooner.  I know that I promised to have this posted last weekend, but I left last Friday for my Spring Break, and found to my surprise and horror that there was no computer where I was staying!  But here it is.

  This chapter is short.  It really didn't seem right to add anything just to make it a longer chapter, so I'll simply promise to make the next chapter longer.

Chapter Seven

"What?" Throttle pulled back and stared at her in confusion.  "What'cha mean, Charlie-girl?"

The storm had spent itself, and her legs buckled, leaving her to hang limply in his grasp.  She was crying too hard to talk.  She buried her face in her hands and sobbed pathetically.  

"Charlie.  Oh, Charlie-girl."  His words were gentle and soft, as soft as the fur on his arms when he picked her up and cradled her against him.  She could feel him carrying her somewhere, but couldn't see through the tears.

He sat down.  Still holding her in his lap, he reached down and fumbled with her boots, pulling them off.  She dimly recognized the feel of her bedspread under one bare foot.  Her bedroom.  They were in her bedroom.

"Shhh, Charlie-girl.  I'm here.  I got ya.  Shhh."  

And he rocked her, like a mother rocks her child after a nightmare, murmuring soft, soothing nothings into her ear and stroking her hair.

Finally, the tears slowed to an end, and she sniffled and buried her face in his chest.  Her eyes and nose and head hurt.  And her heart.  Oh, how her heart ached.

Throttle looked down at the fragile woman shivering in his arms.  Her words had not at all been what he'd expected.  _I can't ever have a baby._  Throttle had never told anyone, not even his bros, but the hope of some day marrying the woman he loved, raising a family together in a world filled with peace, had been his most secret desire for as long as he could remember.  He had once thought that Carbine would be that woman.  But that was over, and his heart had returned to Charlie, where he now realized it had been all along.  The possibility that she could never bear children was one he had never even contemplated.  

His heart was bleeding.

But he kept these thoughts to himself while his Charlie hiccupped against the last of her tears.  Finally, she turned her face away from his chest and sighed, resting her head over his heart.  He wondered if she was listening to his heartbeat.

"I got your chest all wet," she sniffled.

"'Sokay.  Fur dries.  So, do you wanna tell me about it?  Might help."  What was he supposed to say?

She stared blankly off into space for a few minutes.  "Nothing helps.  I'm all broken inside.  Like Humpty Dumpty."

He didn't know who Humpty Dumpty was, or why he had such a weird name, and right now he didn't much care.  "Charlie-girl, talk to me.  Please?"  When Charlie only continued to stare at something only she could see, he clenched his teeth in frustration.  How was he supposed to help if he didn't know what hurt?  Well, if she wouldn't tell him, maybe he could see…

It was a tremendous breech of Martian protocol.  No Martian was ever supposed to use what they fondly referred to as "mind tricks" on anyone without the other's permission.  But right now, Throttle plain just didn't care.  In one swift motion, holding Charlie gently but firmly where she couldn't escape, he bent his head and touched both antennae to her forehead.

Charlie gasped and jerked back as she felt the alien intrusion into her mind, but it was too late…

It wasn't hard to find what he was looking for.  The source of her pain was playing back before her mind's eye as if on instant replay.  Several flashes of a familiar laboratory.  Karbunkle.  Limburger.  Both gloating.  Fear.  Sharp instruments, gleaming in the bright lab lights.  Other Plutarkians and unfamiliar aliens, all wearing lab coats.  Sometimes bloody lab coats.  Pain.  Plutarkian men, leering at her as they unbuckled their pants.  Incredible pain.  Grief.  A prison cell.  Cold.  The Mouse in the next cell, reaching out.  Watching as that same Mouse was left behind.  More familiar lab surroundings, this time with Mice wearing the white coats.  Sad faces, shaking heads.  And all the while, indescribable pain and grief that tightened his throat around the agonized scream building within his chest.

With an oath, Throttle pulled himself out of Charlie's mind and fell back onto the bed, gasping for breath.

"Throttle…"

After a time, he raised his head and stared down at the human woman trapped in his arms.

"Throttle, let… go.  I can't… breath."  He realized that, caught in her emotions, he had unconsciously tightened his arms around Charlie.  He loosened them.

"Sorry."

They lay there in silence, looking at each other.  Throttle could see the questions in her eyes.  Finally, he sighed and stared up at the ceiling.  "You're probably pretty ticked at me."

"What did you do?"

He pricked up his antennae and pointed them at her.  "I peeked in your head.  Looked at what was hurtin'."  He could feel her stiffen, knew that if he looked back, there would be anger on her face.  "Damn it, Charlene, I didn't know what else to do!  Ya can't expect me ta just go off and leave ya like this!"

"You could have trusted me to tell you when I was ready."  Her voice was soft, vibrating with insult.  "You could have respected my privacy.  I never asked any of the other Mice what had been done to you when you were captured.  I trusted that you'd talk when you were ready.  You could have let me do the same."

"And when would that've been, huh?  Tomorrow?  Next week?  Five years from now?!  Shit."

"So, how much do you know?"

The change of topic surprised him, and he blinked at her.  "Huh?"  When she tilted her head and continued to wait patiently, he let his head drop back onto the bed again.  "Not enough.  When I look in your mind like that, without you invitin' me, I just get images.  Since you were already thinkin' about it pretty hard, I saw most of your memories from when the Fish-Heads had you.  But I'm still kinda confused."

"And you want me to finish out the story for you."  Charlie pushed herself up from his chest.  The tears had dried on her cheeks, but her green eyes were red and tight and her nose looked the same.  

"I know I don't have the right to ask you.  But, please, Charlie-girl.  Won'cha let me help?"

Outside, in the streets, bikes roared and voices raised in companionship.  Charlie rose and crossed to the window to look out.  She recognized several of her Fighters.  It was clear that they had drunk away the horrors of the day.  Well, they'd pay for it tomorrow.  Her head hurt –whether from the mind scan or from the crying spree, she couldn't say- and she rested her forehead against the cold of the window glass.

A noise from the bed turned her wandering attention back to the golden-furred Mouse sitting there.  He looked odd there.  Strange, but no one had ever been up here, in her room, since she had rebuilt the apartment.

Did he have the right to know?  He'd already taken so much.

But standing there, watching him as he watched her, Charlie realized something.  Throttle looked right, waiting for her on her narrow bed.  And like a flashback, a suddenly remembered memory, she realized something else.

It had not been revenge that had kept her going, that year on the moon.  It had not been a desire for revenge, or her own pride, or anything similar that had given her the strength to escape the prison camp and return to Earth.  To bring together the men and women still uncaptured and form them into her Freedom Fighters.

It had been Throttle.

She had wanted to see Throttle again.  She had wanted to see his handsome face, and to show him, in turn, all that she had done to help his people.

If anyone had the right to know what had been done to her, it was he.

Out on the street, the group of bikers sped away.  The roars of their bikes dimmed.

"When they had me in the moon camp, the Plutarkian scientists took away my ovaries and womb to play with."  Her voice was a whisper against the sudden silence.  "I guess human, Mouse, and Plutarkian reproductive systems are pretty similar, but not quite.  Anyway, they put something back in there, but it didn't work.  Not so surprising."

Throttle rose from his spot on the bed and held out his arms.  For the first time since he'd left, she went willingly into them, and twined her own arms around his neck as he picked her up.

"When I escaped and got back here, I'm told I was pretty close to dead.  The Mouse technicians here on Earth at that point put me back together, but they just didn't know enough about human physiology.  They healed me, saved my life.  Almost half the organs in my body are artificial.  But they didn't know how to replicate ovaries.  They couldn't give me back the eggs the scientists s-stole."  She was crying again now.  She hated to cry.  It made her look weak.  She didn't even have enough tears any more to really cry, but could only hiccup and gasp out her words while her eyes stung.  "I-I can't ev-ever have a li-litt-tle g-girl.  Nothing.  Ever."

Throttle closed his eyes in shared pain and rocked her some more.  When her dry sobs quieted, he simply held her.  "They're comin' up with new stuff all the time now.  Between your docs and ours, we've got a bunch of brains workin' at all sorts of stuff."  The words were hollow, useless.  But he needed to say something.

But Charlie tucked her head into the hollow of his neck and sighed.  "Maybe," she whispered.  "At this point, it doesn't matter so much.  I can't even think about children until we're finished cleaning up Earth.  And it's not like I've got a man to make any kids with."  Her arms tightened around his neck as she said this.

Throttle tightened his own around her and sighed.  A Mouse could dream, couldn't he?  This wasn't the time, or the place.  But someday…

*          *          *


	10. Familiar Ground

I want to thank everybody for all of your patience.  I'm really swamped with finals right now, and it's hard to find the time (and inspiration) to write.  The reviews and emails mean a lot to me.  And special thanks go to Morning -you're an inspiration to me! 

Chapter Eight

Charlie opened her eyes slowly.  The morning sun was shining softly through her window, and the mating song of a bird perched on the window ledge rang out cheerfully through the air.

Stupid birds.  Always waking her up.

She rolled her shoulders underneath the blankets and reluctantly sat up, throwing back the sheets which had been so carefully tucked around her the night before, by...

Throttle.  Where was he?  Charlie remembered falling asleep wrapped in his protecting arms.  She must have been really zonked out if he hadn't waked her when he left her in the bed.  She flopped back against the pillow and tucked her arms behind her head to stare up at the ceiling.  

It had been nice, really nice, to drift off next to the Mouse she had dreamed of for so many years.

Clattering noises from the kitchen caught her ears, and Charlie fought the instinctive wince.  It had been six years, after all.  Maybe Throttle had improved his cooking skills…

A following crash proved all maybes pointless, and Charlie slid out from under the covers, intent on saving what was left of her kitchen.  A quick glance in a mirror made her wince; she was not one of those lucky redheads who could look lovely while crying.  Even now, several hours later, her eyes were still puffy, and her skin was a bit blotchy-

She shook her head and groaned.  By now, Throttle had ferreted out every last little secret horror of the past few years, every little bit of ugliness inside of her, and she was thinking about her outer appearance?

Yup.  Nothing wrong with a little vanity.

There wasn't anything she could do about her face right now, but she ran her fingers through the tangles of her long hair as she padded into the kitchen.  The sight that met her eyes left her wanting to both laugh and groan.

Throttle was standing over the stove, staring at a smoking mass slopping over the sides of her one skillet.  Broken eggs, spilled liquids, and dried goods littered the counters and not a small part of the near floor.  Hot dogs (which she had continued to buy and eat out of sheer habit after the bros had left) cooked in a pot of boiling water –the one and only cooking project that seemed to be going well.  She gave up and giggled.

Throttle spun around, and Charlie leaned against the doorway to smile weakly at him.  "Morning."

"Uh," he looked around the mess and shrugged, blushing faintly.  "Mornin'.  I figured I could get it all cleaned up before you woke."

She sighed and waved him away from the mess on the stove.  "Why don't you try to get the floor cleaned up?  I'll make breakfast."

It didn't take long before Charlie was sitting across from the golden-furred Mouse, watching him scarf down hotdogs as she nibbled at an egg on toast.  "Thanks for trying the whole cooking thing.  It was a nice thought."

Throttle's ears twitched.  "Yeah, well.  At least I managed ta clean everything up without any problem."

"Yeah."  Silence fell between them, and Charlie wondered what was going through Throttle's mind.  For that matter, she couldn't quite get her own thoughts settled.  Vulnerable didn't even begin to describe the way she was currently feeling.  The brief breakfast escapade had at least put them on more even ground; she had had no idea of what to say to him when she'd first stepped into the kitchen.  What do you say to the one guy you trust more then anything else, but had wanted even more to keep a secret from?

"D'ja sleep okay?  It looked like you were when I got up."

"Uh huh.  Did you stay with me the entire night?"

"Yeah.  You feeling okay?  I didn't really mean ta make you cry."

"It's all right.  I think I've cried more since you guys came back then I did the entire time you were gone."  And silence reigned again.

Throttle wanted to yank his antennae out.  It was as though they were saying anything, anything at all, to keep dancing around the previous night.  But he had so many questions still, and he really needed answers.

"How many people know about the, uh… about you?"

Charlie looked away.  "Jack knows.  He was there when I hauled myself back to Earth.  Several of the fighters know that I was in a prison camp, but they don't know the extent of it.  And the doctors who fixed me; they know, of course.  That's all."

"Oh."

She sighed.  "You want to tell Modo and Vinnie, don't you."  It wasn't a question.

Throttle shrugged uncomfortably.  "I won't if you don't want me to.  But it doesn't feel right to keep somethin' like that from 'em.  They really care about ya, Charlie-girl.  We all knew something was wrong, and I don't like hidin' that I know what it is now.  Since I didn't come home, they'll figure I was with you, and they'll know that I probably know somethin'."  Slightly confused words, but the sentiment rang clear.

He looked so miserable that Charlie rose and crossed to him, where she stroked a hand over the wild golden head.  "I know what you're trying to say.  I care about you guys, too.  A part of me has wanted to spill everything from the moment you walked into my office."  She sighed and shook her head.  "But I'd gotten so used to holding everything inside that I couldn't let it go.  And I guess I just wasn't ready to deal with it all.  But you should tell them when you feel it's right."

"Thanks, Charlene.  It doesn't really make me feel any better now that I know what happened to ya.  But it makes me feel better to _know_."  He reached up to cover the hand that she had left on his shoulder.

Charlie bent and kissed his cheek.  "Thank you.  I'd forgotten what it meant to have people to care and look after me like you guys do."  She sighed again and rested her head on his, which, even though he was sitting down, reached easily to her shoulder.

After a moment, she realized that he hadn't responded, hadn't even moved, since she'd planted that light kiss on his cheek.  "Throttle?"

His hand tightened over hers, and he turned so that they stared at each other.

"Charlie-girl," he whispered.  For a moment, she thought he'd try to kiss her, more seriously then she had him.  But he only sat there silently.  She shifted uneasily.  Finally, he raised his free hand to cup her cheek.  "I'd never forgotten.  All I could think of was you."

"Throttle-" She tried to cut him off, stop what he was about to say, he ran over her words.

"I can't keep holdin' it all inside like this, Charlie.  It hurts too much.  I loved you even before that last night, when we kissed up on the roof.  It tore me apart to come back and see you actin' like you were.  And now that I know everythin', I just love you more."  When she tried to shake her head in denial, he pressed ruthlessly on.  "Yes, Charlene.  I love you.  But I need to know if you still feel the same way about me."

When she could only stand there, speechless, he dropped his hand and walked out of the kitchen.  His movement finally broke the spell over her, and Charlie ran after him.  "Throttle, wait!"

He stopped and stood there in her doorway, just looking at her.

"Please, Throttle, just wait.  I… sit down.  Please."  

"Okay, Charlie."  He crossed to the couch and sat, a patient expression on his face.  "No more games."

"No more games," she agreed.  She sat in the chair across from him.  It was her favorite chair, one that one of the first Fighters had found in the rubble of an old house and brought to furnish her new rooms.  She loved to sit in the softness of its deep, blue upholstery and think.  Now, she settled on the edge of her chair and searched for every bit of comfort she had ever found there.

"I won't lie to you, Throttle.  These years have been absolute hell for me.  But I'd gotten to a place where I was content.  Not happy; I don't think that was really possible for me.  But I could look around me, at what I had, at what I'd accomplished, and I was satisfied.  Proud, even.  And then you and your bros came in through that door and all of that contentment went right out the window."  She reached out for his hand, and nearly cried when he met her halfway.  She clutched at the large, capable fingers with their light covering of golden fur, and continued.

"When you first left, all I could think about was how much I loved you, how much I missed you.  And all through my captivity, no matter what they did to me, I held onto that.  I think it kept me sane, or near enough to it that the docs were able to pull me back.  And right now, I'm sitting here, thinking how much I still love you."

Throttle's eyes glowed, and he rose from his seat to reach for her.  But Charlie wasn't finished yet, not quite.  She jerked away.  "Wait.  I have to get this all out."

Throttle shook his head in disbelief and frustration.  "What else is there, Charlie-girl?  I love you.  You love me.  Isn't that enough?"

But Charlie mirrored the shaking of his head.  "Throttle, I'm trying to tell you.  I do love you.  But right now I'm too mixed up inside, too broken.  And I'm not sure that I can have a relationship with you, no matter how much I want it.  I need time, Throttle."

He stood over her, and breathed out a ragged sigh.  "Time.  You're killin' me here, Charlie."

"I know that."  She clutched at his hand, clung to it.  "I know, and it's not fair to you.  But I'm afraid that if I rush into something, I'll screw it up.  Please understand that.  I don't want to hurt you, or drive you away, just because we couldn't wait a while for me to pull myself together.  Okay?"

Throttle crouched down beside her and ran a hand over her hair as she had done to his earlier.  "I guess that makes sense.  I don't like it much, but I don't wanna hurt you either."  She allowed him to pull her from the chair and into his arms, and he nuzzled his cheek against her soft red hair.  "We're somethin', aren't we, Charlie-girl."

"Yeah."  She sniffled once, and buried her face in the curve of his neck.  "We really are."

*            *            *

Throttle roared into the scoreboard and removed his helmet, but he didn't move toward the entrance, toward the companionship and comfort of his bros.  Instead, he held the old, battered helmet in his hands, studying the multiple scratches and dings covering its surface.

"You okay, bro?"  Modo moved from where he stood in the doorway, and placed a hand on Throttle's shoulder.  The golden furred Mouse nodded.  "D'ja find out what's wrong with Charlie?  I'm guessin' that's why you didn't come home last night."

"Yeah."  Throttle blew out a heavy breath.  Should he tell them?  Charlie's words echoed through his head –_Tell them when you feel it's right_-.  "Yeah, she told me.  Let's go find Vinnie, 'cause I don't wanna tell this twice."

Vinnie was subsequently dragged from his bed and plopped into a chair at the table.  "What's the big deal?" he whined as Modo grabbed beers for them all.  "Like I care if Throttle finally got into Charlie's pants."  At a growl from both Mice, he threw up his hands.  "Fine.  Spill the beans, Leader-Mouse."

And so Throttle told them the last missing details of Charlie's imprisonment.  By the time he was finished, Vinnie's peevish mood had been replaced by pure rage, and Modo's remaining eye glowed a deep scarlet.  "So that's it, bros."

"Goddamn butchers!"  Modo pounded the table with his mechanical fist.  Throttle found himself absently hoping that the glass bottle squeezed in the gray Mouse's real hand didn't break from the pressure he angrily exerted; none of them was particularly good at first aid to begin with, and they certainly weren't in the mood for the delicate and painstaking task of pulling slivers of glass from tender flesh.

Vinnie rocked back in his chair and wiped a hand over his face.  "I still don't get why she didn't just tell us."  The expression on his face was one of bewilderment.  And there was hurt as well, something Throttle had rarely ever seen.

"Remember how long it took before you could talk about losin' Harley?"  When Vinnie nodded, Throttle spread his hands.  "I think it's somethin' like that.  Sometimes somethin' just hurts so much that you can't talk about it for a while."

"Yeah."  Vinnie nodded slowly.  "Okay, I get that.  So what are you gonna do about her?"

"Huh?"

The white Mouse groaned and shook his head.  "Ya try and try ta teach 'em…  Charlie, you moron.  You gonna sit back and wait for her to make up that weird female mind of hers', or are ya gonna go after her?"

Throttle raised his hands in the air.  "Maybe this didn't make its way through that thick skull of yours, but Charlie-girl's still got a lot of issues she needs to deal with.  If I chase after her, don'cha think that'll make it hard on her?  I don't wanna hurt her, Bro."

Vinnie grinned.  "I'm gonna ignore that little insult so I don't have'ta hurt you.  Who said anything about hurtin'?  She loves ya, Bro.  And I've never met a woman, no matter how messed up she was, who didn't appreciate a little romance.  Know what I'm getting' at?"

A smile grew on Throttle's face as the possibilities began to occur to him.  "Ya know, Big Guy," he said to Modo, who shared his grin, "maybe he's not so dumb after all."

*            *            *


	11. Hope

Thank you to everyone for being so patient over the long hiatus, but I'm back! Thanks especially to Morning; your wonderful encouragement and beautiful illustrations mean a lot to me.  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
Red. It was such a beautiful color. Her favorite color, in fact. Especially that deep velvety shade that always caught your eye and cheered your mood with thoughts of love and romance.  
  
The roar of flyers taking off from the roof broke into Charlie's thoughts and drew her eyes from the pretty vase filled with scarlet roses that reigned over her desk. Realizing that she had been daydreaming again, she smiled and returned her attention to the paperwork that monopolized every flat space in the room, and every free moment of her time.  
  
Throttle had brought the flowers yesterday. Since the night they'd spent together two weeks before, he had taken to showing up every day or so with some new gift. Sometimes it was flowers like yesterday's roses, which he bought or found in some park; sometimes it was candy or baked goods for her notorious sweet tooth. A few times, when she was stuck working late, he'd even brought her something to eat, knowing how likely she was to forego dinner.  
  
A part of Charlie sighed, dreamy-eyed, over Throttle's new treatment of her. It was so sweet and romantic, a courtship of the traditional kind that she had never received -much less wanted- as a girl. She knew that Throttle received all sorts of ribbing over the gifts, so the fact that he shrugged it off and continued to bring them melted her heart just a little bit.  
  
Charlie loved Throttle. She had admitted that to herself as she had stared across her bedroom with tear-drenched eyes at the golden-furred Mouse who had forced open her soul and revealed his own. But, though she finally knew that the feelings were there, on both sides, a part of her was still terrified.  
  
"Charlie-Ma'am?" Modo popped his head in the door. "Couple of the techs need you downstairs in the garage."  
  
"What? Oh, thanks." She rose and reached for her jacket, when Modo's big, gentle gray hand dropped onto her shoulder.  
  
"You doin' okay?"  
  
She shrugged. "Yeah. I've just been stressed, lately." She pulled on the jacket and gave an absent-minded rub to the twin silver planets, the symbols of her rank, adorning each shoulder. "I've been in touch with other Fighter groups over in Europe. We think they've got the last of the Plutarkian hideouts over there. This could be it, Modo." She looked up and met his one eye. "Victory. Actual peace. The fish heads don't have a chance anymore. They're sending troops over from England and Italy next month, to help us roust out the remaining bases here in the States. After that, who knows?"  
  
The look on the Mouse's face made Charlie catch her breath. "Was a time I didn't think that would ever happen, Charlie-Ma'am. I thought we'd done it, back home. When I heard they'd just moved on to Earth, well."  
  
When he trailed off, Charlie laid her hand on his metal arm. "These plans are still classified, so I'd like you to keep a lid on the news until I make it official, okay? But we're going to beat them once and for all, Modo. You can go back to Mars and relax with your family for the rest of your life, even start your own family. And it couldn't have happened without you guys."  
  
Modo grinned, and started to answer her, when a beep from her vid screen interrupted him.  
  
Charlie sighed. "Unfortunately, all of this good news means I'm up past my bedtime planning. I'd better see who that is. Tell the techs I'll be down as soon as I'm finished."  
  
The gray warrior nodded and ducked out through the door, and Charlie returned to her desk and pressed the "receive" button. The individual who appeared on the screen, however, was not one of the various leaders she'd been brainstorming with for the past week.  
  
"Hello, Charlene. How are you doing?"  
  
"Doctor! Just a sec, okay?" Charlie rose and closed the door before sitting back into her chair and smiling at the charcoal-gray Mouse on the screen. "I'm doing okay. It's good to see you, Doctor Graytail."  
  
"I think we've been over this, Charlene. It's Spokes when you're not on my examination table."  
  
Charlie shook her head and smiled. "Sorry, uh, Spokes. As nice as it is to chat, is there a reason for the call? I'm a little busy down here."  
  
"I'm sure you are. I've heard about the plans for your big military push."  
  
"Damn it, that's supposed to be classified. What ever happened to military secrets?" Charlie thumped her fist on the desk, sending papers flying.  
  
Spokes looked down at Charlie through the glasses perched on her nose, in a way that always made her feel like a little girl trying to argue with a librarian. "There is going to be Martian aid, after all, Charlene. I think the head med-tech," here she pointed a thumb at herself, "has a right to know if and when her fighters are going to get bloodied up. But in any case, I do have a reason for calling you, and I think it's one that'll make you sit up and pay attention. I think we've figured it out, Charlene."  
  
"You. what?" Charlie gripped the edges of her desk. If Doctor Spokes Graytail, head medical technician of the Martian wartime med base (transported to Earth when the fighting moved there), was saying what she suspected, it could very well mean the end of the surgery, the check-ups, the needles she'd suffered over the past four years.  
  
"I've spent a lot of time with specialists of your own race. As you know, the problem with the replacements we gave you is that there's never been anyone, Mouse or human, who sustained the extent of damage to body as you did and managed to last long enough to get back to us. Saving your life wasn't easy."  
  
"Tell me about it." Charlie rubbed her hands over her face. The memories of that escape, the weeks of agony as Martian doctors struggled to replace what the Plutarkian scientists had done with mere approximations of human organs, the failures and on-going surgery, weren't at all pleasant. "You don't have to remind me how close it was."  
  
Spokes ran fingers through her shoulder-length black hair. "I know. In any case, I think we've finally come up with organs that will maintain themselves without any assistance, once they're in."  
  
Tears pricked at Charlie's eyes. "You're serious?"  
  
The Martian doctor nodded, pride and knowledge all but making her eyes glow. "It's going to mean more surgery, and the recuperation time won't be easy, but once they're in, you won't need the biannual injections or anything. I'm still going to keep a close eye on you for the first several months. But they'll work."  
  
"Oh, god." Charlie sniffled. She knew the chances were slim, but she still had to ask. "Spokes, will they let me-"  
  
Spokes knew her patient, and she had anticipated the question. She shook her head, her joy dimmed. "I'm sorry, Charlene. You still wouldn't be able to conceive and carry a child to term. The Plutarkians harvested all of the ova your body had produced up to that point, and the replacements can't make more. Our technology just isn't good enough yet."  
  
Charlie sighed. "Don't worry, doc. It's enough for me that I'll have an almost-fully functioning body again."  
  
"So all we have to do is schedule your trip and the surgery."  
  
"I want to jump on a transport right now, but it's going to have to wait until after the maneuvers we're planning down here. Once that's over, we can pop open a magnum of Zenthian champagne to celebrate both my full recovery and the defeat of the Plutarkians. I'll get in touch, okay, Spokes?"  
  
"Alright. Take care of yourself, child. That body you're running around in is some of my best work."  
  
Charlie grinned. "I'll try not to damage it. Bye, doc."  
  
The Mouse waved and cut the connection.  
  
Alone, Charlie sighed again and allowed her shoulders to droop. As wonderful as the outcome would be, the prospect of more surgery made her want to groan. Still, avoiding the monthly check-ups and anti-rejection maintenance injections would be a joy in and of itself.  
  
"Hey there, beautiful."  
  
The warm voice from behind her brought the smile back to Charlie's face. She turned and reached for Throttle's hand. "Hey yourself. And don't call me that."  
  
"Why not? You are." He looked behind her at the still-active vid screen. "Who were you talkin' to? Anything important?"  
  
Should she tell him? Not now. It wasn't the right time. Charlie shook her head and turned her screen off. "Just bumping heads with various higher-ups. Any reason for your lovely visit?"  
  
Throttle stuck his hands into his back pockets. The idea that he'd come up with had seemed so great when he'd bounced it off of his bros, but he suddenly wasn't so sure. "I, uh, hear the fish-faces been lyin' low, huh?"  
  
Charlie angled her head and looked up at him. "They certainly seem to be, yes."  
  
"So, there's not that much goin' on right now, yeah?"  
  
"Not really. Something on your mind, Throttle?"  
  
He found himself staring fixedly at a spot on the wall. "You don't have anythin' big planned for the next week or so, right?" Before she could answer, he blurted out hurriedly, "Because I figure if anythin' happens, the fighters can take care of it. They're good people, know what they're doin'."  
  
Charlie stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "What exactly are you trying to say, Throttle? Because right now, you're making about as much sense as a baby."  
  
Throttle took a deep breath. It was a nice idea, he reminded himself. If the timing wasn't right, they could wait. So why did he feel like a teen asking out his crush? "Vinnie found this spot, outside of the city a ways. It's a big forest that didn't get hit or stripped. Really nice. And I was thinkin' we could take a couple 'a days and go campin'. Just the two of us."  
  
Charlie felt her jaw drop slightly as she stared at him. Surprisingly, the idea sounded absolutely wonderful. Even a few days away from the responsibilities of command. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed.  
  
So why, again, was she so nervous of a relationship?  
  
But back to the trip. As tempting as it was, the timing sucked. Things were currently under control, but those plans with the European bases.  
  
Charlie sighed, and suddenly realized that it had been a few minutes since Throttle had spoken. Her silence apparently wasn't very encouraging; his ears and antennae were drooping, and his gaze had dropped.  
  
"I guess you don't wanna. That's okay."  
  
"No!" Charlie threw out a hand to stop him as he turned to leave. "That's not it at all, Throttle. There's just things I need to do." Well, military secrecy be damned. "Look, I just told Modo, but this isn't exactly public knowledge. We're planning a joint push with European aid to get the last Plutarkians here. I'm don't feel like I can take any time away right now." After all, if she'd just stalled the surgery that could leave her well once and for all, how could she justify going off. for a few days of much- needed fun. with the guy she loved.  
  
What the hell.  
  
She rubbed a hand over her hair, absently securing a few hairpins that had come loose. "I'd love to go. Give me two days to get things cemented here, and we'll go wherever you want, all right?"  
  
Throttle's eyes widened, and a grin spread over his face. "You serious?"  
  
"Don't I look serious?" She tucked her arm into his and started toward the door. Those poor technicians had been waiting for her long enough. "It sounds great, Throttle, really. How did you know I liked camping? I don't think it ever came up."  
  
He shrugged, and his tail caressed her leg. "I just remembered seein' some stuff, like a tent and sleepin' bag around, figured you went for that stuff. I've never gone campin', but it sounds like fun."  
  
Charlie spun around before the stepladder. "Really?" She thought for a minute. "Yeah, I guess not. Mars wasn't the safest place for camping." She reached up and patted his cheek. "Well, it's not exactly hard. I'll show you how to put up a tent and take you fishing if there's a nearby lake." She turned to climb down the ladder, hesitated, and then placed a soft kiss on his nose. "Thanks, Throttle."  
  
* * * 


	12. Vacation

I owe everyone an enormous apology.  This has been a very bad summer for me, and I simply wasn't able to do much writing.  Hospital time combined with resulting writer's block has made things very difficult for me.  However, here's the next chapter, and I promise that I'll try my absolute best to get the next chapter out sooner.

Chapter Ten

Charlie hummed tunelessly (not that she'd ever been able to hold a tune) as she pulled shirts and underwear from her bureau drawers.  "This is crazy," she muttered to herself as she added a heavy over-sized flannel shirt to the growing pile.  "I postpone life-improving surgery in favor of military maneuvers, but go haring off on a camping trip without a thought of my military responsibilities."

Okay, so that wasn't entirely true, she amended.  The two days she had begged from Throttle had been spent waist-deep in international negotiations, intelligence gathering, strategy meetings, and planning ahead for any possible problems that might occur while she was gone.  She hadn't slept in that entire time, and felt almost –but not quite- as though she'd earned the vacation.  To be honest, it was a good thing that Baby Doll was a Martian AI bike; otherwise she'd be very worried about falling asleep while on the road.

Even so, Charlie still felt guilty enough to slide an extra communicator into her jacket pocket.  Just in case.

She flipped open the bike saddlebags leaning against the bed and, placing her hands on her hips, surveyed her work.  Was there anything she'd forgotten?  Jeans, shorts, shirts, a few warm things in case the nights got chilly.  Toiletries, a swimsuit for the lake Throttle claimed was nearby-

Oh, goodness, how had that slipped in?

Charlie snorted with laughter as she held up a filmy negligee in a deep blue.  That certainly wouldn't be needed, she reminded herself firmly.  She wasn't ready, she still needed time…

Repeating the thought to herself, making her mind believe it, Charlie began to stuff things into her bags.  Throttle should be by any minute now, and she still needed to-

"Charlie-ma'am?"  Modo's knock followed his voice through the door of her apartment, and he waited politely until she answered.  "You all packed?"  When Charlie nodded, he continued.  "Throttle's down in the garage.  I thought you'd like an extra hand with your bags."  Without actually waiting for a reply, the large gray Mouse strode into the bedroom and picked up the two saddlebags as though they weighed nothing.

"Thanks, Modo."  Before he could exit for the stairs, Charlie laid a hand on his arm.  "Big Guy, how's Throttle been doing?  He acts fine and dandy around me, but I know he's not totally happy.  I worry about him."

Modo shrugged her bags higher up over his shoulder and sighed.  "I dunno if it's really my business, Charlie-ma'am.  Throttle wouldn't like me tellin' stories behind his back."

"Please, Modo?"  Charlie placed her hands over his flesh wrist and squeezed gently.  "I care about him.  I want him to be happy.  You don't have to let me in on his secrets or anything; I just need to know that he's doing alright."

The big Mouse glanced over his shoulder, as though ensuring that his leader and bro wasn't sneaking up behind him.  "I won't lie to ya.  He's frustrated as all hell.  Throttle wants to make you happy, wants to give ya time and all that, but he's only a Mouse.  He's no saint, ya know, ma'am?"

Charlie felt more guilt settle over her like an old blanket.  "I know, Modo.  It's just… I'm scared.  I don't want to do anything that'll end up hurting him."  She bit her bottom lip and looked up into Modo's one good eye.

"Seems ta me Throttle's a grown Mouse.  He knows what he's getting' into.  But Charlie," here he turned his hand over so that he held both of her hands in his large one, "it sounds more to me like you're tryin' to convince yourself of what you're sayin'.  Am I hittin' near the truth here?"

Charlie looked away and took a breath.  She didn't have an easy answer to that one.

"Look, Charlie-ma'am.  I'm not the best guy to be givin' advice in the romance area, but I got one thing ta say to ya.  Don't be like Carbine.  Don't string him out for too long.  It'll only hurt ya both.  Okay?"

She squeezed his hand and realized that a small smile had found its way to her lips.  "You're a good bro, Modo.  Come on, let's not keep him waiting down there any longer."  Both understood the tentative double meaning of Charlie's words.

*            *            *

Throttle tapped his fingers on the handlebars of his bike and tried not to think of the various reasons Charlie hadn't come down yet.  She could have gotten cold feet.  The Plutarkians had pulled a surprise attack.  Maybe she was sick?

But no.  His sensitive ears picked up the sound of her laughter from above, and it was followed soon after by the woman herself, swinging down through the trap door.  His heart thrummed when he saw her.  The battle-worn commander had been replaced, however momentarily, by something approximating the woman he had left behind six years ago.  The black leather jeans and unitard top were replaced by blue jeans and a snug t-shirt.  Charlie's hair was pulled back into a loose braid, which she was tucking into the back of her Fighter jacket.  That item of apparel, apparently, would never be left behind.

The expression on Charlie's face was a study as she crossed to him, McCyber and a tall black woman at her side, a tiny dark-haired woman following behind.  She was speaking quickly, hands gesturing, and the first two were nodding with each point, twin looks of amusement and exasperation on their faces.

"And don't forget, that Franc guy should be comming in this evening.  Remember to give him those new estimates we came up with during lunch.  And we just finished installing the new hardware in the flyers.  Everyone needs to be updated on the improved capabilities.  I don't want anyone taking off without that update.  If they do-"

"We'll give 'em a spankin' and send 'em to bed without any dinner."  The black woman laughed and ran a hand through her frizzy blue hair.  "Don't worry, Sugah.  Ah think we can handle things without ya a few days."

Charlie gave her an apologetic grin.  "Sorry.  I've never taken a vacation before.  I just don't want anything to go wrong."

"And it won't.  I promise.  Now go have fun."  With that, Jack gave her a shove toward Throttle and the bikes, and took her saddlebags from Modo to attach to Baby Doll.

Charlie laughed.  "Ready to go, Throttle?  I think we've got everything we need."  She started to climb onto her bike, but Throttle wrapped his tail around her waist.

"There's just one more thing."  Keeping an eye on her hands (making sure they didn't reach for the gun strapped into its holster at her thigh), he dug his hand into the side pocket of her jacket and came up with a communicator.  "You're not gonna need this."  With a grin, he tossed it to McCyber over Charlie's protests.

"But-!"

"But nothin'.  Vacation, Charlie.  That means you're not gonna think about work until we ride back into this garage next week."  Throttle folded his arms and smirked at his auburn-tressed love.  Although she tried to growl at him, the scowl that intimidated so many humans was wasted upon a Mouse who towered head and shoulders above her.

"Fine!"  She threw up her hands and looked over at the small group around them.  "I swear, if a single one of you laughs . . ."

The black woman threw back her head and laughed anyway.  "Ah like your man, Charlie."  She grinned over at Throttle and held out a strong hand.  "Ah don't think we've been introduced.  Name's Margaret, but everyone calls me Meg.  Ah'm the hand-ta-hand specialist 'round here.  And this," she reached behind her with her free hand and pulled forward the tiny woman who had followed them over, "is Mira.  She's Charlie's head of intelligence."

"Intelligence?"

Charlie smiled over at Modo.  "Mira  is the queen of sneaks and spies.  There's hardly been a single Plutark secret that Mira couldn't discover.  She's the best I've ever seen."  The woman blushed and ducked her head silently.

Throttle gripped Meg's hand and grinned over at Mira.  "It's good to meet you.  This is Vinnie and Modo."  Beside him, Modo nodded a hello.  However, where he expected to hear Vinnie's usual rambunctious greeting, there was only silence.  He glanced over, and had to strangle a guffaw.  His normally ebullient comrade was staring, mouth open and eyes wide, at the raven-haired intelligence officer.

Modo followed his gaze and jabbed Vinnie in the side, jarring the white Mouse out of his glazed state.  "Uh, yeah.  Nice ta meet you," he stammered.  Throttle and Modo exchanged amused looks.

"Well, we might as well hit the road," Charlie interrupted.  She revved Baby Doll's engine and cocked an eyebrow at Throttle.

Twenty minutes later, when they stopped at the side of the road for a gulp of water, she looked over to the golden-furred Mouse.  "So what was that all about with Vinnie?"

"Oh.  I think he's got a thing for your little spy queen."

Charlie laughed.  "Mira?  Good luck to him.  Unless she's making a report, she usually doesn't say more then five words to anyone.  And I think she's more celibate then I am.  Vinnie's gonna have a hard time getting to first base with her."

"Well, it's about time.  He's been mowin' a streak through the Fighter woman."  Since the subject had come up, Throttle asked a question that had been simmering in the back of his head for days.  "Speakin' of, I gotta say, I'm pretty surprised that there's been so little trouble between the humans and my own people.  We sure wouldn't have gotten along so easily with everyone back when we first landed here."

Charlie sighed and patted wisps of red hair back against her head.  "You've stayed around the Fighters, Throttle.  We've fought beside the Mice and their allies, and you guys did a lot to help us out.  The human Fighters have gotten a chance to see that your people aren't so different.  Not everyone's quite so tolerant.  I'm not quite sure how things will be after the fight's completely over."

Throttle scratched his head.  "I guess that makes sense."

"Yeah.  As to more, uh, intimate relationships, humans and Mice aren't so totally different in the bits and pieces department.  We're not exactly the same, but near enough."  Here, she ducked her head and looked carefully away from the Mouse she loved.  "It's not possible for the two species to, um, procreate, but sex and all that works just, uh, fine.  So I've heard, that is."

With that, the woman climbed back onto her bike and took off, leaving Throttle puzzling over what she had just said, and more importantly, what she had meant.

*            *            *

Charlie followed Throttle's bike down a rugged path through some woods.  She still wasn't quite sure why she'd said what she had.  She didn't want to lead him on, after all.

Throttle glanced over his shoulder at her.  "Well, here we are."  The path opened up into a really lovely clearing.  The ground was covered in soft-looking grass, and the trees formed a protective circle around a good-sized area.  He pointed over to one side.  "The lake's that'a way.  I guess we could go take a look after we get set up here."  He climbed off of his bike and began to remove two rolled up tents and sleeping bags.

"Sounds great.  There's a lot of soft brush around the clearing; it should make a pretty good base for under the sleeping bags.  I'll gather some up while you start getting the tents up."  She wasn't going to comment on the fact that he'd brought separate tents without consulting her first.  That was a good thing, right?  

Charlie gave an absent-minded pat to Baby Doll's crankcase before striding over to the edge of the clearing.  She had a large armful of brush before she looked back over toward the bikes, and nearly burst out laughing.

Throttle had unpacked one of the tents, and all of the pieces were lying piecemeal on the ground.  He held one support on his left hand and was staring at it in puzzlement.  "Throttle, do you even know how to raise a tent?"

The Mouse blushed.  "Uh, I guess not.  I didn't figure on all these pieces, just bought the tents."

"I guess that makes sense.  Why don't I give you a hand?"  She wouldn't laugh.  She wouldn't.  Even if he did look really cute and baffled.

"Thanks."

Charlie had spent a lot of time camping with her father as a girl.  Even after so many years, the trick of snapping things together came right back to her.  Between the two of them, it didn't take long to construct a well-ordered campsite.

Throttle bent backward in a good stretch and tilted his head toward the lake.  "You wanna get suits on and take a dunk in the lake?  Still plenty of light out, and it's good and warm."  An image rose in his mind, a memory of the little two-piece Charlie had worn the few times they had gone swimming when it had been just the four of them together.  Lords, he hoped she'd brought it.

"Sounds good.  Give me a sec to find my suit and change."  Charlie grabbed her saddlebag and disappeared into her tent.

When she emerged, she wore an over-sized t-shirt and flip-flops and carried a towel.  "Lead the way."

The short walk to the water was beautiful.  Birds sang, and sunlight found its way through the leaves to create puddles of light on the path.  Charlie took it all in and gave a contented sigh.  "This is exactly what I needed, Throttle.  I owe you one."

Her words startled Throttle out of the light trance he'd been in, staring at her slender white neck as she looked around.  He fought to keep his mood easy and chuckled.  "I'm keepin' score."

"Sure you have."  Just then, she caught sight of the water through the trees and gasped.  "God, Throttle.  It's gorgeous!  I can't believe this didn't get torn up."  She peered back at the Mouse and smiled.  I guess we're just lucky, huh?"

"Yeah."

Charlie draped her towel over a low branch and began to wiggle out of her t-shirt.  Throttle, looking forward to the bikini he remembered, found himself momentarily floored when she revealed a navy-blue tank cut low over the hips and high against the neck.  Against his will, his shoulders slumped.

Still talking, Charlie turned around just in time to catch sight of his face.  "Throttle, what's wrong?"

"Huh?  Oh, nuthin'."  He forced a smile onto his disappointed lips.

But the human placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward.  "Don't 'nuthin' me, Mister.  I know that look.  What is it?"

Throttle turned around so she couldn't see his face and mentally kicked himself.  "It's stupid."

"So, spill."

"I was, uh . . ." Was there any way to say this and not look like a horny idiot?  "Remember that little bikini you used to wear all the time?"

"Oh."  Charlie remembered the suit very well indeed.  Hell, she'd bought it specifically to wear in front of Throttle.  But she'd thrown it away four years ago, when she'd seen the map of scars covering her torso.  With a sigh, she reached out and caught Throttle's hand, pulling gently until he turned to face her.  "Throttle, everything that was done to me, it left a pretty bad mess on the outside.  It's not a very lovely sight.  I guess, one of these days, if I ever get the money and we've got time for things like that, I could go to a plastic surgeon and get the scars prettied up a bit.  But for now, I'm not really comfortable with people seeing them.  Okay?"  She looked into his eyes and saw the understanding, so she grinned.  "Honestly, I didn't think you'd ever noticed that bikini anyway."

"You kiddin'?  I couldn't keep my eyes off it."  Throttle reached out and drew a finger softly down her cheek.  "I always noticed."

"Ah, okay."  And that was enough seriousness for now.  "So, race you?"

*            *            *


	13. Glory

First off, I hope you all notice that I've changed the rating of this story to R. You're intelligent people. I'm sure you can figure out what that means for this chapter...

  


  


Charlie smiled sleepily up at the roof of her tent. She had been on vacation for two days now, and it was wonderful. Exactly what she'd needed. They had gone on a long hike the day before –very long, as her legs were still reminding her- followed by another dip in the lake. And after dinner tonight, she'd introduced Throttle to the wonders of s'mores.

She giggled at the still-clear image of the big golden Mouse trying to get gooey, delicious marshmallow out of his facial fur.

"Yeeeaaaaaaaagh!"

Throttle's agonized screech sent Charlie tearing out of her tent and towards its neighboring twin. In her haste, she tripped over the boots she'd left outside and swore, thoughts of possible threats racing through her mind. Whatever could have found them out here? Neither of the bikes would let an unknown person near enough to plant a tracer. A bear might be attracted after the food, although she thought they'd done a pretty good job of packing everything away after dinner. "Throttle?! Throttle, what's wrong?"

The golden-furred Mouse was sitting up in his sleeping bag, still in one piece. At her question, he turned to her, tail held gently in one hand, insult and injury mingling in his eyes. "It bit me!"

"What bit you?"

He held out his free hand to her, and Charlie gasped. Nestled in the wide palm was a tiny black kitten. Its fur stood all on end and its golden eyes were huge with fear. Upon seeing a human (at least a recognizable thing) it opened its mouth and emitted a weak mew.

"Oh, what an angel!" Charlie grabbed for the kitten and cuddled it gently against her chest. "What an absolute darling. How did you get all the way out here, hmm? Don't worry, sweetie, we'll take care of you," she cooed.

"Charlie, it _bit_ me!" Throttle's voice was oddly strangled, and Charlie looked up from the black ball of fuzz.

"Don't be silly, Throttle. She's just a baby. She probably just found her way into your tent -which you forgot to zip closed, by the way- and your tail was too good a toy to resist. You tend to wiggle the end when you're dreaming."

"I do? How would you know?" Throttle demanded, glaring up from his injured tail.

"Throttle, I've seen you sleep before. You're really being very silly." Charlie rose and began to edge back toward the tent's opening. "I'm gonna get this baby some food, then go back to sleep."

"Wha- You mean you're gonna keep it?" If anything, Throttle looked even more outraged then he had when she'd come in. "Charlie-girl, it's a menace!"

"Oh, come on, Throttle." she held out the kitten. By now, her cuddling had soothed away its fear. Its fur was a bit matted, but no longer standing up, and it was purring hard enough to make Charlie's hand vibrate. "Don't tell me you're afraid of this little angel, are you? Just because she was scared and lonely, and she wanted some attention." Reaching out, she grabbed Throttle's hand and plopped the kitten back into it.

Throttle stared at the little creature with a mixture of apprehension and disgust, and Charlie laughed . Kneeling down beside him again, she ran a finger over the kitten's head.

"M'not afraid of it. Just startled me, is all."

"I see." When the kitten decided that Throttle's warm hand was the perfect place for a nap after such big adventures, Charlie smiled and laid her head on Throttle's shoulder. "I think I'll name her Angel. She certainly acts like one."

"You sure it's a girl? There aren't any, um, there isn't anything to tell." Since it was there, he turned his head just slightly to nuzzle her hair, noting how good it smelled.

"I'll get her to a vet when we get home, but I've got a feeling." She sat a moment, silently, as he moved softly to her ear. It felt very nice. A little too nice, to be honest, and she shifted away. "Come on, just say it once. Admit she's adorable."

"Yeah, I guess she's kinda cute." At that moment, Angel chose to flop over in her sleep, opening her little mouth for an enormous yawn.

Charlie giggled, and felt Throttle laugh as well. She turned to smile at him, and found herself not three inches away from his face, staring into his garnet eyes. She froze, and felt him do the same. She remembered how good his lips felt on her own, and her mouth dried up.

"Charlene," he whispered hoarsely, as he had done before. She was all too aware that he wore nothing but boxers, and his desire was all too evident. 

Charlie shifted away again, and forced herself to look back down at the kitten. "I'd, um, better feed this little girl." She started to reach for Angel, but Throttle's free hand settled over her wrist, holding it tightly but gently.

"Look at me, Charlene," he commanded softly.

She looked. She had too; there was no way of disobeying that voice.

He stared at her, frustration, lust, and a little anger in his eyes. "You want me to kiss you. I can see it in your face. Hell, I can smell it on you. I'm patient, Charlene, but I'm only a Mouse. This is driving me crazy."

The echo of Modo's words made her wince, and she stammered out what she had been telling herself for days. "I can't! Not yet!"

Throttle closed his eyes and growled softly. "Maybe this trip wasn't such a good idea after all." He placed Angel down on his sleeping bag and got up. "I need some air." And he left Charlie huddled up in his tent.

Charlie sniffled and wiped away a treacherous tear that had welled up in the corner of her eye. Damn it, it just wasn't fair! She picked up the kitten and rubbed her cheek against the soft fur. "But I'm right, aren't I?"

She hadn't been with a man since her escape from the prison camp, and the many sexual encounters held there had been horrible. Wasn't she entitled to be scared? Didn't she deserve the time to make sure she was doing the right thing?

....

Above the reproachful questions crying out in her head, one with an all too different tone rose up.

Did she have the right to hurt Throttle as she was clearly doing?

There was only one answer to that. Never.

She had tried to play it safe, and had only ended up making the one mistake that wasn't supposed to happen.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered.

The kitten mewed and patted her face with one paw. Then it struggled out of her hands and jumped down, where it walked to the entrance of the tent and sat down, looking at her expectantly.

Charlie ran her hands over her face, wiping away the tears that had followed the first, and laughed weakly. "I guess you're right."

She left the tent and looked around. Throttle was nowhere to be seen. Then, her eyes fell upon the small trail leading toward the lake. "Of course," she murmured. 

The woods were beautiful at night, with moonlight shimmering through the trees. Charlie struggled to hold onto the feeling of serenity that the sight brought her when she emerged out onto the shore and caught sight of her Mouse, sitting dejectedly on a large piece of driftwood, staring out at the water. "Throttle?"

He moved, shifted, but didn't look in her direction. "Ya don't really wanna be near me right now, Charlie-girl. Hell, I don't think I can stand to have ya near me."

She watched the back of his head, noting the downward flip of his ears, the slump of his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Throttle."

"I know you are. I know you can't help it, an' I know that pushin' doesn't make things any better, but damn, Charlie! It's hard to be near you all the time, knowin' how much I want you and not bein' able to do anythin' about it!"

"So do something now." If the situation hadn't been so serious, Charlie would have burst into laughter at the way the large Mouse swung around to look at her, eyes and mouth wide and ears up.

"What?!"

"I mean it, Throttle." She walked forward and picked up his hand, limp with surprise, to place it against the round curve of one hip. "I'm not being fair to either of us. I want you as badly as you want me, and I shouldn't let a little fear spoil everything we could share together."

"If you're jerkin' my chain, Charlene..."

Charlie shook her head hard. "I think you'd know me better then that, Mister. I want you. Here. Now." When he still made no move toward her, she sighed and stepped away. Slowly, her eyes never once leaving his, she grasped the hem of her sleep shirt and peeled it upward, pulling it over her head. Naked but for a pair of panties, she opened her arms to him. "It's not really warm enough to stand here starkers, Throttle. I'd like you to come warm me up!"

Her joking tone seemed to do what her serious words hadn't. Throttle stood up and moved to her, eyes fixed upon her body. Softly, almost fearfully, he reached out and caressed her cheek. "I love you, Charlene."

"I love you too. Now come here and kiss me."

He swept her up into his arms, pressing her against him as he touched his lips to hers. The sensation of his fur against her bare skin sent thrills up and down her back, and she shivered. His arousal was more then evident, and she slipped a hand between them to stroke his length. Throttle groaned. Breaking off their kiss, he looked swiftly around. They had left their towels hanging on some branches to dry earlier that day; carrying her with him, he strode over and pulled one off to spread on the ground. They soon followed.

His hands, his mouth were everywhere, and Charlie couldn't contain her moans. Even her underwear was too much of a barrier between his flesh and her own. Pushing him away for a moment, she slipped her fingers beneath the elastic, and she was soon naked under him. 

At her actions, Throttle reared up to kneel over her. She reached for him, but he held her hands and only gazed down at her. Suddenly very aware of the scars patch worked across her torso, Charlie pulled one hand free and crossed it over herself, but Throttle wordlessly shook his head and pulled it away. "So beautiful," he whispered reverently.

She started to shake her head, but he placed a gentle finger at the start of a scar and traced it across her abdomen to the top of her hip. The hand clenched. "I could kill them all for what they did to you," he growled.

The violent words, so at odds with his gentleness, sent a jolt through Charlie's heart. "Don't say that," she whispered. "Don't think about that, don't think about them. Think about this." She reached down and unclenched his hand, placed it on her breast. "Think about us, about now."

The anger in Throttle's eyes was replaced by desire, and he came back down to her waiting arms. He took one breast into his mouth and sucked on it. Charlie brought her hands up to run them through his golden hair, reveling in the feeling. He moved downward, trailing his lips over her scars, and sucked gently on the inside of her thigh. The tender pull of his lips as he moved to scrape his teeth over the intersection of hip and pubic bone was almost more then she could bear. "Throttle!" she gasped, trying to pull him upwards, "Now!"

"Not yet," he murmured softly. He briefly rubbed his face against her thigh, just taking in her smell, then her slowly lowered his head and tasted her.

Charlie jerked upright with a tiny scream. If there had been any question about differences in Martian and Terran love-making, she thought irreverently, this certainly put them to rest! Throttle licked his way over her, reducing her to a puddle of throbbing need. It just didn't seem possible for her body to contain this much feeling and not explode. "Throttle, please! I can't-"

He looked up to smile devilishly at her, then turned his head and nipped the inside of her thigh. "You can. You will."

"Damn it, Throttle!"

"I've waited this long to make you happy. I think you can wait a little bit longer." And so saying, he brought a finger down to gently flick the sensitized nub of flesh between her legs. Charlie's world dissolved into a world of total sensation.

When the fireworks behind her eyelids finally died down, she blinked down at the satisfied Mouse grinning up at her. "Christ! Where'd you learn that? I know Mice don't have a clit!"

Throttle actually blushed. "Vinnie has all these magazines," he explained.

Charlie dropped her head back onto the towel. "I should have known." She lifted her head back up and smiled, then tugged on his ears. "Why don't you come up here? I'm getting a crick in my neck looking at you."

"Gladly." Throttle returned to his knees, pausing briefly to pull off his boxers. Charlie had a moment to fully appreciate his size before he laid himself over her, resting his weight on his elbows. He kissed her, and she tasted herself on his lips. It was incredibly arousing. "I'm not gonna hurt you, am I?" he asked worriedly.

Charlie shook her head. "For all intensive purposes, my parts are in good working order. Some just don't do everything they're supposed to." She slipped her arms up around him and thrust her hips upward. 

Throttle gasped and instinctively thrust himself forward, into her. Though she had expected some discomfort, the pain startled her enough that she let a small wince cross her face.

"I hurt you." Throttle saw her expression and began to pull out, but with a massive effort, Charlie lifted her leg to wrap around him.

"It's been a really long time," she panted. "What do you expect? Just give me a minute. If you stop, I think I'll kill you."

Throttle smiled tenderly in acquiescence and waited until she had adjusted to him. When she squeezed her legs, he began to pump, first slowly, then faster and faster.

Charlie wrapped her arms around his neck and let herself drown in the intensity of their actions. 

Throttle began to gasp, rocking harder into her. "So good," he groaned. Grasping her hands tightly in his own, he plunged madly, Charlie his only chance of sanity. Survival.

Holding each other to life, to love, they spiraled together into glory.

***

  


Well, there it is. It took them a while, but they're really together. And don't worry! That's not at all the end of this story; there's a lot more to come.

Some of you may have sat up in surprise when I decided that women Mice don't have a clitoris. Well, humans and Mice are different. I see Mice as certainly still having a G-spot, but not the same exterior bits. That's just the way I see things. 

I know that FF.net has banned N17 fics so that young people don't meet up with sex and such things. However, I consider a tastefully-written sex scene, as I've tried to write here, to be no more then rated R. Heaven knows, it's less then what children can see on tv every day. So there's that issue finished.

-- Foenixfyre


	14. Consequences

Well, here is FINALLY is. The next installment of "Reunions." I know it's taken a long time, and I appreciate the support that I received from people, especially from Morning and FairDrea. Over the past year (my final year of college), I'm afraid that I found real life a little overwhelming. I hope to have a lot more time to write now, and intend to update at least every month.

Chapter Twelve

Throttle carefully eased himself up onto one elbow and gazed silently down at the human woman who slept beside him. He ran a gentle hand down over her auburn hair, and was rewarded by a mumble and a roll which snuggled Charlie even more firmly against his chest. His skin twitched from the sweat and sand that had accumulated underneath his fur, but he was reluctant to move, reluctant to leave.

He _still_ wasn't entirely sure what had happened, to bring Charlie to him like this. He knew that she had been . . . damaged . . . by her horrendous experiences in the hands of the Plutarkians, that the mere casual touch of a man could make make her flinch, and bring a disturbing pallor to her face.

But she had come to him, had offered herself to him. It was a gift that left him feeling weak, invincible, terrified . . . and simply grateful and so in love that he didn't know what to do with himself.

But he had to wonder; where would they go from here? There was no way he could stand a return to-

Charlie's strangled gasp broke the silence of the night, tearing Throttle's attention back to her. Even as he watched, she trembled in her sleep, raising one hand as if to ward off some unseen assailant. Her eyes clenched, her teeth bared, she gasped out two desperate words. "Please . . . no!"

"Charlie!" Throttle grasped her shoulder and shook her gently, trying to wake her. "Charlene, it's okay! Wake up!"

His words were of no help, however. Caught up in her nightmare, Charlie flailed out against enemies only she could see. She tightened one hand into a fist and struck out at him when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him.

"Charlie-girl, please wake up!" He almost didn't recognize his own voice, as panicked and shaky as it was.

"Nnn -agh!" With an enormous gasp, Charlie finally opened her eyes and wrenched herself away from him. Clutching her arms around herself, she struggled for air as she continued to tremble uncontrollably.

"Charlene?" Throttle restrained the desperate need to touch her, and fought to keep his own voice low and gentle. "Are you alright now?"

She finally looked over at him, and managed a shaky smile. It looked fake against her sweaty pallor. "Yeah. Thanks."

He understood without saying what the nightmare had been about.

Torture. Rape.

"Do ya have those often?"

Charlie glanced away and closed her eyes. "Used to. Not so often now."

Throttle didn't want to ask, but he had to. "Was it because . . . Do you think our sleeping together caused this one?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Throttle. The weirdest little things can set them off. But . . . yeah. Probably."

He couldn't think of anything more to say, and so waited for her to continue.

The niggling fear arose in the back of his head, that Charlie would decide that this had all been a horrible mistake. That they should return to the status quo. That she wouldn't let him hold her in his arms again as he had only minutes ago.

Some corner of his mind whispered that he should accept that decision if Charlie asked for it. Her mental and emotional health had to come first, right? After all, this wasn't simply some woman that he had fallen in love with. She was, to a greater extent, one of the primary commanders of the earth forces against the Plutarkians. Charlie's well-being could very well play a deciding role in Earth's victory . . . and who was he to stand in the way of something that important?

But . . . Throttle's heart rejected the thought as soon as it came to him. He had loved Charlie for years, even before he'd realized the fact. And he knew Charlie felt the same way. Wasn't love just as important as some military victory? He could keep Charlie strong, be there for her. He would be there for her. And he wouldn't let her push him away.

Charlie rubbed her hands over her bare arms. Balmy the night might be, but she felt chilled to the bone. Needing to cover her nudity for more reasons then the mere physical, she glanced around for the sleep shirt she had discarded earlier. Seeing it lying in a heap about ten feet away, she pushed herself to her feet and trotted over, grabbing it up and pulling it back over her head.

She forced herself to look back at Throttle, unsure of what she would see in his face. The golden-furred Mouse plucked at the towel they had been lying on, staring down at his hand in a painfully obvious attempt not to look at her.

She sighed, and ran a hand through her tangled hair, wincing as she tugged on several knots. Everything had seemed so perfect a single hour ago, then her stupid nightmare had left her so shaken that she'd automatically pushed Throttle away. How was she supposed to start fixing the mess she had made?

"Charlie-girl-"

"Throttle-"

They spoke simultaneously, and laughed nervously. Still staring down at the blanket, Throttle gestured for Charlie to continue.

Charlie sighed, and walked back to the blanket. She lifted the hand that picked at the blanket, holding it in her lap and studying the short blunt nails, the callouses and scars. It was strong hand, a warrior's hand. But it was just as capable of comforting a hurt comrade, of protecting a child, of taking her to unimaginable heights of passion. She looked up at his head, and sighed when she saw that it was still turned downward, also watching the way she held his hand in both of her own.

Her hands looked so delicate, so pale and tiny next to his own. The fingers were long and slender, the nails short. There was a little reddened pucker of flesh where the thumb and index finger joined on her left hand; he remembered the day that he had surprised her at work, resulting in the burn from a hot engine. She had sworn, sucked briefly on the burn, and gone right back to work. No, he knew from experience that the fragile appearance hid a strength that matched his own.

"I wish you'd look at me." Charlie was tempted to place her hands beneath Throttle's chin and lift his head until his eyes met hers, but she restrained. People joked that the eyes were the window to the soul. With Throttle, that old adage was truth itself. She had realized early on in their friendship that he wore the shades not only to protect his cruelly enhanced eyes, but also to keep that much more of his thoughts secret.

Silence reigned, and finally the Mouse raised his head. Charlie gasped at the pain present in his garnet eyes. She instinctively moved to comfort the man -the Mouse- she loved more then any other, dropping his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, to press her cheek against his furry one.

Throttle brought his own arms up and clung to Charlie's slim torso like a life-line. "I . . . I can't go back, Charlie-girl," he choked out in a broken whisper. "I'm sorry. I can't go back to the way we were, me afraid to touch ya . . . Now that we've . . . been together . . . I can't give you up."

"Oh, Throttle." Charlie pulled away just enough to place her hands on either side of his face, so that she could look again into his eyes. "I don't want that either. I think it would drive me mad!"

"But . . . " he struggled for the words to express his worry, his confusion, his frustration.

"It's gonna be really hard, Throttle. I won't lie to you." she filled her voice with sincerity, and brought their faces together until their noses touched. "But I love you! I want to be with you!"

"I don't want to hurt you, Charlene." Cool, blessed relief welled up within him at her words, soothing away some of the panicked ache. "Knowin' that you're havin' these nightmares, just because I'm touchin' you . . . that'd just tear me apart."

"I'm not saying that the nightmares won't come." Charlie took a deep breath. "They will. There will be times when I wake up screaming, and I won't want anybody , even you -especially you- to touch me. But it's something we'll have to deal with if we're going to be together. And I'm willing to work for it. If it helps, I can tell you that the nightmares haven't been as bad since you and the boys came back to Chicago."

Throttle gently traced a finger down the side of her face. There was strength in that green-eyed visage. He'd always known it, but he didn't think he'd known, until this very moment, just how incredible that strength was. "I'd fight every enemy we've ever faced to keep you, Charlie-girl. I guess this isn't really the sort'a fight I'm used to, but I'll face every step with you. I'm never lettin' you go."

Charlie smiled and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Then I'd say we've got a better chance then most."

Several hours later, Charlie curled up against her new lover and smiled into the darkness. After their talk, they had washed off in the lake. They had frolicked like children in the warm water, cleansing themselves both of the sand and sweat and of the frightened emotions both had carried. After that, they had moved back to the camp, where they had made love again, this time on clean blankets, before falling asleep wrapped around each other.

Charlie hugged herself, treasuring the healthy, wholesome feeling of being sated by good sex. It felt . . . good. The mild twinge of soreness between her legs did not send her mind huddling into some corner, racing away from the memories of rape and hurt. Instead, she felt, for the first time in years, like a normal woman. The relief of that feeling brought tears of pleasure to the corners of her closed eyes.

At the mouth of the tent, something moved. Before she could tense up, a tiny "mew" came quietly through the night.

Sitting up, careful not to disturb Throttle, Charlie gathered the kitten into her arms. Burying her face into the soft black fur, she whispered, "I'm sorry I forgot about you. Things got a little . . . complicated after I left the tent."

The kitten silently curled into her arms, and extended a tiny pink tongue to lick her thumb, nibbling gently upon her nail.

With a soft laugh, Charlie lied back down, keeping the kitten enfolded loosely in her arms. "We'll just have to see what Throttle has to say when he sees your in the morning. I don't think he'll complain to much when I tell him I'm keeping you, Angel. Is that an okay name?"

There was no response from the kitten, who seemed to have fallen quickly asleep. Charlie laughed.

From behind her, a muscled arm wrapped carefully around her. "Angel?" Throttle's voice rumbled out. "More like a little devil."

"How can you say that about our child, Throttle? Look at how innocent she is, sleeping there." Charlie grinned at the return to their playful teasing.

"Tell that to my tail. It still stings where she bit me."

"We'll teach her that tails are not acceptable toys."

"We'll talk about it in the morning. Now go to sleep."

And smiling, Charlie slept.

And there you have it! Remember to review! Next chapter is rolling along, and should be up in a month, with Throttle and Charlie's return to Chicago and the beginning of Earth's final push against the Plutarkians. If you're interested in receiving emails about updates, just mention in in your review or send an email to me. 's being rather odd and won't accept the email address that I'm typing in, but you can find it on my bio page.)


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